Silver Deception
by Rose Midnight Moonlight Black
Summary: A shady deal goes wrong, Terry and Matt's live are hanging in the balance. Will their true parentage be revealed to everyone, even themselves? Will Bruce give into their kidnappers for his secret? Or will help from an unexpected person save them in time?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, all the rights remain with their owners and this is a non profit story inspired on the Batman stories.

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**Silver Deception**

Chapter 1

(Wednesday Evening)

In the faint distance she could hear the screaming of horns, the explicit curses of tempers and the humming whoosh of cars whizzing past underneath her. The hover-limo sored high above all of this, separating the bored teenager and her distracted father from the common folk, who were just as far beneath them on the social scale. Mairyn stared distastefully out of the window, the gritty metal and stone of Gotham City blurring indistinctly. From her angle, she couldn't see much of the city's most unique and infamous features, the blinding reflection of the big industry hid the dirt and grime of the lower levels. But that was meant to be her _privilege,_ to be spare any unpleasantness caused by the less fortunate.

Unlike most teenagers of her age and class, she wasn't spoiled. Yet even she took little notice of her luxurious surroundings, of the expensive designer clothes wrapped around her in a teasing but tasteful manner, of the black choker necklace imbedded with a rather big diamond, earrings and bracelet to match. None of it held her interest or her curiosity, never had and was never likely too. Personally, it was all a bit of a farce to her, and a boring one at that.

The outfit wasn't really of her choosing- it was the man next to her. Middle-aged, greying hair yet still somewhat attractive, Wen-shen Chang was arguing rapidly into his mobile phone. His clipped annoyance increased as he sharply tore into the person on the other end of the phone, unsatisfied with what they were reporting to him. Mairyn pitied whoever it was, she knew what a controlling perfectionist her father was. It was suffocating enough to live with him, working with him would have to be excruciating.

The ride was silent except from the background sounds of the city and her father's insistent micromanagement echoing around her. Mairyn was actually glad her father wasn't attempting to make conversation with her (or even acknowledge her sitting there). She couldn't stand to spend time with her absent father, especially lately. Every second would become more unbearable than the last, given how more demanding he'd be. This was the most time they had spent together since her mum's death several months ago, and more time than she'd care to spend near him. Glancing over she wasn't surprised that he had turned his back to her – however the distinct clink of a phone closing did startle her.

Her father shifted back into his seat, absently straightening his fitted clothes as he glanced at her. His expression was, as ever, solemn and severe, as he turned to the next part of his business. "Mairyn, I know I don't have to impress upon you the _importance_ of this deal. We _need_ this deal to expand the business and you..." the man paused, unsure of how to phrase to his daughter what her role was, as if she wasn't already aware of it.

Mairyn resisted rolling her eyes, sometimes she thought obeying her father should almost be worth going to elite parties in expensive pretty clothes, any girl's idea of a good time - but it wasn't. Nothing he ever rewarded her with was worth what he wanted her to do. She'd rather be down VRoom with her friends, being a normal teenager – but as her mum had always told her, "you're not normal, Ryn, you're meant for so much more". She hadn't believed it then, and now more than ever she doubted her mum's wisdom. Given what her father had her doing, she didn't think her mum would ever have been right.

"I know, Father. I'm to find Wayne's lackey boy and befriend him – '_or whatever is necessary'_ –to convince him to get Wayne to see he needs this deal as much as we do." She sighed; it wasn't like she hadn't done this before. Too many times, really.

Her father grunted absently, already examining his PDA for an update, "We should be arriving soon, just remember...be _charming_."

_Charming_ had never sounded so sinister.

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Straightening the lapel of his suit jacket so that it was resting properly against him, he resisted the urge to pull at the bow tie until it was loose enough for him to actually breathe again. Of course, amused irony touched his lips; he should be used to not breathing by now. Turning away to face the ballroom again, he felt like a complete fool in his formal clothes.

From the way many eyes kept glancing at him appraisingly, if Max or Dana had been there they would have quickly corrected him. A perfectly fitting Armani suit that Bruce had ordered despite (or perhaps because of) Terry's look of abject horror, complimented his Gotham pale completion. His silver-blue eyes almost gleamed from between the just-ever-so-slightly-too-long ebony hair that framed his face, giving him an air of both a man of mystery and a childish amusement him. His shoulders were relaxed in an unbothered sort of way that was a natural companion to his carefree attitude. He almost appeared approachable if not for the detached amusement/disdained hidden in his eyes as he looked around.

If there was one thing in the world, (maybe the _only thing_ in the world) Terry didn't want to skip patrol for it was an elitist 'business' party. They were boring, stuck up and a complete waste of his time when he should be doing his real job. And the young man would rather be dealing with the pathetic quips of the Jokerz than the soulless jokes of the Connected.

Unfortunately Bruce, in coming out of retirement, needed to reconnect with the world. He needed the support of his old connections as well as too forge new ones to consolidate his place at the head of Wayne-Powers. All of which seemed to require Terry's presence for some reason beyond his comprehension. Wayne justified it as that Terry was there to aid him and protect him if necessary, which in Gotham was as a sensible reason as any. Honestly, he got the impression that Bruce simply enjoyed making him suffer and if Bruce had to live through boring never ending parties then so did Terry. The original Batman was simply sadistic that way, hidden behind the mask of education.

Sure Bruce would claim that Terry needed to learn the intricate art of politics, and that establishing his reputation early would benefit them both in later life; really Terry thought Bruce wanted to make him used to dealing with the stupid people who frequented these parties.

True, there was good food, decent music (if a bit ancient), the building was schway and it was also interesting to take a step back and just watch the people around him. He liked to watch and see what was really going on between people – what they really were and weren't saying to each other and about themselves. Body language was so revealing if you weren't trained to regulate it.

It was just the whispers that drove him half mad, even if he had been prepared for them.

He tried to ignore them but they seemed to flare up at the most inconvenient moments, getting louder like an irritating buzzing in his ear, never truly fading. He knew by sight the sort of people who adored retelling as sordid stories about him and /or Bruce they had heard or made up.

'Is that...'

'Oh yes, that's Wayne's _boy_...'

'...of course we all know what's going on there!'

Damn Bat hearing was a curse more than a blessing. The elderly socialites turned away with scandalous grins, missing the venomous gleam in Terry's eyes.

Terry, through Max, was aware of the rumours flying around about him and Bruce although he didn't know the 'details' involved. He knew enough to be disgusted by some of the more … vivid ones. Rumours to the elite were like a critical blood supply to a vampire; it was what they lived for, what they needed to live and most important, how they spent their time. The rumours flying around a party would depend on the individuals invited and their particular tastes in scandals, some more daring than others. There were some of Bruce's old 'acquaintances' that Terry and Max were frankly disturbed Bruce could look at without punching, never mind do politics with. Naturally they were all retired, still influential members of society (who the two teens had quickly branded 'perverts' and made plans to avoid) and were probable only out of jail owing to the same influences.

But still, the rumours still infuriated him, especially from people like those perverts.

He wanted to hit someone.

Hard.

Moving over to the balcony, he noticed that the buzz faded slightly with relief. Anymore and he'd punch the next person to look at him leeringly, as if he was deaf to what they had just been saying. He took a large drink from the cup in his hand.

He would have loved to try the champagne – but he had a feeling Bruce wouldn't agree with him. And that man knew how to make his life difficult enough without Terry provoking him – which Terry did more often than was healthy. Maybe Terry was a little masochistic, but one didn't become Batman with a fully formed set of survival instincts. The night was cold and dark around him but at least peaceful, with the city stretching out before him. The light twinkled with misleading serenity and this part of Gotham, so much cleaner and well-kept than the rest, gave a gently coy air off about itself. As if Gotham was beckoning her knight to come and join her in the cool concealing darkness, full of unspeakable crimes and blood warming rushes.

Resting his elbows on the railing, Terry looked down to watch the hover-limos bring more and more rich elite, businessmen and socialite women to the party. Women all decked out in rainbow silks, men in identical formal suits and the occasional child in miniature outfits of the corresponding gender. Nice. Dana would have loved to come, if only for the excuse to buy a brand new dress with her dad's credit card – and she'd look gorgeous in it, no matter what. He knew he'd never get Max or Mattie in a dress or a suit, though he suspected the results would be both amazing and hilarious. He could just see it. Max, who was beautiful yet easily the most tomboyish girl he had ever known, never wore a dress – in fact she didn't own one to Terry's awareness and ten year old Matthew McGinnis was a pain and a pest, albeit an loved one.

A faint smirk flickered on to his face at the prospect of humiliating his irritable baby brother. Terry didn't smile much anymore, not a real untainted, non-sarcastic smile. _Batman_ didn't smile and after all the things Terry had seen on the street he couldn't say he disagreed – but when he was with his little brother, his friends and girlfriend, his family...sometime he forgot about Batman and smiled a little.

"Cred for your thought?"

Surprised, Terry turned around. A girl stood right behind him, a glass in one hand and a knowing smirk on her face – how had she gotten behind him without him knowing? It was unnerving, he hadn't realised he was so distracted as to let her approach without sensing it. Bruce would kill him if he knew, and rightfully so. Terry shouldn't be unguarded, period.

She was very petite, hardly more than five foot three but still looked rather attractive in her toga style dark blue dress and light makeup. Her hair was short and sharp, emphasising her aristocratic cheekbones. It's style was shorter that Dana's but nowhere near as rebellious as Max's – it suited her very well, going with the glint in her eyes. Terry made a rough estimation that someone in her family must have been Chinese from her features.

Terry raised an eyebrow at her. The girl smiled back at him innocently, moving to join him on the railing. Goosebumps broke out over her skin but she didn't give any indication that she was bothered by the cold .

"Mairyn?" The girl offered it like a question, with her hand held out daintily.

"Terry." He took it; her grip was surprisingly firm for someone with such soft hands. She had to be about his age maybe slightly older – though he guessed she was here with her family and not her boss like him. The jewellery was a dead giveaway; someone was trying to send a message there with the serious credits dangling from her ears.

"So _Terry_, any reason you are hiding out on the balcony and not enjoying the party inside?"

She was also very blunt it seemed, not caring that the question could be taken as offensive by someone. "Any reason you're not enjoying the party yourself, Mairyn?" He shot back silkily, enjoying her blush.

"Hmmm, what makes you think I'm not enjoying it?" she quipped.

"You're not inside, as you pointed out yourself."

"Ah, well then, no _real_ reason then. I'm just... trying to get away from my dad and his annoying colleagues; no one my age I know to talk to ...yada yada, same old story. Take your pick - Yourself?" She took a sip of her glass, eyes watching him intently. Terry grimaced – blunt, persistent and sharp, good combination that.

"I wanted some fresh air." He answered dryly.

The girl studied him. Obviously, it was a lie (City air wasn't 'fresh' by any standards – smog anyone?) but she couldn't call him on it without calling him a liar, which wasn't something you did with someone you didn't know. She dropped it.

"Well since I get the impression you're not enjoying yourself inside, it must come down to me to make sure you enjoy yourself out _here_." Despite the fact the statement might have come off slightly inappropriate, she waved an arm theatrically around her good-naturedly. Her suffering martyr tone made him smile with amusement.

"- Or you could go back inside and enjoy the party on your own." Terry winced slightly, _that_ had come out harsher and colder than he had meant to. Bruce wasn't the only one who was meant to be making friends after all, and upsetting young socialites wasn't going to get him a good reputation. Plus, she had been nothing but friendly to him, _she_ didn't deserve his temper.

Mairyn frowned, not offended and equally not intimidated, "You're assuming I was enjoying myself before... just as you _assumed_ I_ wasn't_ enjoying myself... - and beside you look like a lot more fun than the corporate busy body zombies in there!" She jabbed her free hand at the door and the small smile returned. There was a small curl in the corner of her smile that seemed to possess a cunning and witty edge to it, belying the simple kindness in her eyes. How interesting.

Terry shrugged, (she had him there after all) the suit stretching over his shoulders. Somehow he didn't doubt this girl had no problem entertaining herself if it came down to it. He also got the notion that she might have just have chosen _him_ to keep her entertained for the evening. Turning to her, he noticed she was watching him critically out of the side of her eye, eyes drifting up and down. He flushed slightly. She would lose interest in him as soon as she found out he was 'hired help' as it were, opposed to some wealthy businessman's son. It wouldn't be the first time a pretty girl was disappointed to discover he wasn't about to offer her some fancy benefits for her time.

"You're Terry McGinnis, aren't you?"

Terry wasn't sure if he should be suspicious or surprised at that, since he was hardly well known – he decided on confused. "Umm, yeah. Why?"

Mairyn shrugged her shoulders stiffly, "Nothing, it's just my father's doing a deal with your boss." She brushed a stray bit of hair out of her face, looking away from Terry, "That's why I'm here - in Gotham that is. I'm...accompanying my father. I...you may have noticed that I don't come from here." She grimaced darkly, as if she was extremely unhappy to be Gotham, or perhaps simply with her father.

Terry _had_ noticed but had the tact, at least, not to say so - no sane Gothamite would randomly walk up to a stranger and talk to them like they had been friends all their lives. He seemed to attract outsiders, like he was some lonely but kind soul that could understand them – he blinked, somewhere, Max was surely curled up crying with laughter. Him, dark and mysterious. Yeah right. Resting against the railing so he could face the brightly lit party and look down at Mairyn with just a tilt of his head, Terry focused his attention on her.

"You and your dad don't get on, do you?" He observed lightly.

Mairyn toyed with the glass in her hands, eyes fluttering as she looked down over the balcony, "Not really, especially... since my mum die. He just doesn't seem to care about us, now or ever, and frankly, I never cared either." She bit her lip.

Terry shifted awkwardly. "Oh?" he stared into his own glass, "Your mum's dead?"

Mairyn didn't answer straight away, just stared out unseeing into the night sky like it held some comfort for her. For the first time, Terry truly noticed that she looked more...mature than most of the rich girls he knew, more weathered. Like she was more than the clothes and jewels she wore.

"My mum died a few months ago, in an _accident_. They – they didn't catch who did it." Somehow her shaken but vindicated tone told him something very different. _Accidents _happened every day in Gotham after all.

Terry didn't say anything, instead allowing the calmed silence to return and enfold them. The Gotham night was soothing in a different way. With a new found clarity he saw why she wasn't really enjoying the party and why she must have be draw to him. It took a long time to get to the stage where you could enjoy yourself without some guilt and Terry wasn't completely there himself. Guilt was something that seemed to linger on. Unwillingly, he remembered the night his dad had died, as if he'd ever be able to wipe it away.

It had been raining heavily. The walls were covered in neon paint in a mocking Ha. Ha. Ha. HA. Police had covered the scene, fruitlessly. It was a scene too fresh to his mind for any comfort. It had been the same night he had first met Bruce, chased through the streets by a gang a Jokerz he had refused to be afraid off. Jokerz, though different ones, who had tried to kill Bruce and Dana not so long ago on the order of the resurrected Crown Prince of Crime. Instinctively Terry's hand closed into a tight fist, shattering the glass cup, cutting into his hand.

Mairyn jumped next to him but Terry didn't really notice her or the distant throbbing of his hand or the wetness his skin. He had fared a lot worse since his dad's murder.

The Jokerz were pests and lowlifes but they were far from harmless. They took pleasure from murder and intimidation – they lived for the pain and fear they caused their victims, who were disgustingly many. They were a symptom of the diseased Gotham, opposed to the illness itself but that didn't mean they weren't dangerous. The Jokerz weren't the cause of his dad's death, that cross lay at the door of Derek Powers, late of Wayne-Powers, a greedy, cruel man. Powers abused his authority, like so many others, and caused more damage than a gang of Jokerz could do. Or he had once at least.

But there were far too many more like him in the world for Terry's conscience.

So why was he here? Terry stared down in the spearing red substance that he had seen far too many times before – in the form of his own or others. Why was he sipping juice and making small talk with people he didn't even like and certainly wasn't liked by in return, when he should be finding ways to bring criminals to their knees? To bring about justice to them? Why was he playing games instead of going out and trying to save Gotham?

The sting in his hand spiked and Terry was knocked out his daze, blinking furiously and darkly as reality returned. Mairyn had taken his hand and was busy trying to stop the bleeding with a saturated hanky. The frustration abated slightly – Terry knew why he was not outside. There were other ways to save Gotham than simply by breaking noses, keeping men like Powers out of positions of influence and authority was just as important and efficient. It wasn't just the streets that harboured criminals – Terry sighed tiredly.

"Terry? Terry! Are you Ok? Can you hear me?" The concern in her voice was more reassuring that any words could be to him.

"Huh?" Terry shook his head and pulled his hand out of Mairyn's grasp. Ignoring her protests, he pulled the make-shift bandage off and checked it for glass. Finding none, Mairyn handed him another tissue which Terry quickly used to stop the bleeding and clean his hand up expertly.

"Are you OK?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure-"

"_Yes,_ Mairyn, I'm sure." Terry paused, regretting the snap in his voice instantly, "I...Sorry. I was just... remembering the day my dad died." He rubbed his face, feeling the stress building up.

Mairyn looked at him with unreadable eyes, "Oh?"

Terry didn't look at her, closing his eyes against the glare of the light of the room inside "It was a while ago. It's...you just don't forget, you know?"

Mairyn shook her head slowly, "No... no, I don't think you... do."

There was a pause.

"I'm sorry about your dad. I didn't mean to remind you, if it was painful -" She cut herself off, unsure and not wanting to make things worse. But she didn't leave.

Terry smiled weakly, appreciating her concern, "Don't be. I told you, it was a while ago and you didn't know." There was a less solemn break, "You like vid-games?"

Mairyn smiled brightly, relieved at the change of topic. "Oh boy, do I!" She teased.

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The two teenagers quite happily spent the rest of the evening talking, eventually moving from the rapidly cooling outside inwards, finding a small secluded corner to hide in, away from the judging, gossips around them. Mairyn was just as eager to escape the far too interested older socialites as Terry was, and the more they talked, the more Terry felt he had misjudged her ever so slightly.

Mairyn was a little bit of a socially awkward girl, not to mention lonely, since she was restricted to a small circle of friends by both her parents – her dad was a snob and her mum didn't approve, feeling Mairyn wasted her time that was better spent studying. She had a terrible habit of blurting out her thoughts without first considering if it was appropriate, and often landed herself in trouble as a result. Terry actually liked her blunt wit but he did get that most people (himself included) thought she was being rude at first. Beneath she was a very observant person and more than able to keep up with him in the things he could red from others' body language.

Terry quickly realised that Mairyn really wasn't like most well-off teenagers; fashion and music didn't interested her in the way other teens followed it religiously. Latest trends were things, like himself, she was often unaware of and didn't care about. Mairyn love vid-games, enjoyed sport and athletics and had been practicing martial arts since childhood. Technique wasn't something he had ever talked about with someone at a party before but Mairyn enjoyed the topic and was about to contribute eagerly. Both were quick to pick up on the fact family (excluding siblings, himself Matt and Mairyn had an elder brother Quincy, who she adored) and work was to be avoided at all costs, as it was uncomfortable.

Terry just couldn't find words to explain to her what his job actually cover (a little of anything really) and Mairyn had trouble explaining what it was like having a father who just assumed you existed to further his company. They bother agreed to not understand and moved on quickly. Neither talked of their parents (dead or alive), Mairyn's hatred of her dad was clear if implied, and Terry felt strange guilt about his mum, for all Mary's faults, she loved her son and always tried the best by him. He tried hard to not let her down this time.

What many people would assume to be idle pleasant chatter (but to teens as a whole was actually hard core investigation) passed the time quickly and neither teens noticed how late things were getting or that they had actually forgotten their original dissatisfaction with the party. They found they were simply getting to act their respective ages for once, and enjoy the rare opportunity to relax and be something close to _normal_.

"Ok, and then Max threw the cake right into the bloke's face – it went everywhere! God, you really should have seen it, the guy was just standing there, gaping, while the rest of us bust a gut laughing! Oh it was so schway." Terry gasped, pausing to take a drink as Mairyn's whole body shook with suppressed laughter at the image Terry had vividly painted in her mind. Max was certainly someone she wanted to meet.

She sniggered under her breath as a few rogue tears sneak pass her grip, "Well there was this time, Q and I were at this party and –"

"Mairyn! There you are! I thought I had lost you." A fake joyous voice cut through the conversation quicker that a pin into a balloon, as an older man stepped up to them. The few nearby conversations died just as quick, the speakers' interest caught by the new arrival in their claimed corner.

The man – her father obviously - casually laid a hand on his daughter's shoulder, pointedly ignoring how she stiffened up at the unfamiliar and unwelcome touch as he pulled her closer. He nodded slightly to Terry as he introduced her to the elderly man next to him, who looked as charming and _frail_ as ever.

Wen-shen Chang's smile was wide and insincere but Terry applauded him the effort. "Darling, this is Mister Wayne, the man I'll be working with on the deal over the next week. Remember I told you about him?" Most people couldn't manage to smile weakly after a few hours alone with Bruce, never mind so energetically, Chang was certainly determined.

Mairyn smiled an equally wide but not totally as fake smile and took Bruce's offered hand, "It's really a pleasure to meet you, Mister Wayne. Terry's told me a lot about you." She gestured to Terry, making sure he was pulled into the conversation too. Honestly, he was fine to stand by and watching the show.

"Terry," Bruce raised an eyebrow at him amused, as if to say 'so this is where you've been hiding?'. His voice was low and deep as rich as his bank balance suggested, even if unnaturally light, "Been telling tales, have we?"

Terry grinned warmly at his mentor, "Of course not, as if I do such a thing." The coy tone was counterbalance by the look on his face that said he told Mairyn _everything_ about Bruce and wasn't concerned about revenge. Bruce smirk straight back at him.

Chang eagerly leant forward, his sharp eyes were much like his daughter's in that regard, were watching the two interact closely. Their relaxed familiarity was obvious, "Ah, Mister McGinnis, is it? I've heard quite a lot about you, young man. It's nice to finally meet you." He said politely.

Terry took the man's offered hand firmly, making sure to meet his eyes, "And just what kind of things have you heard about me, Mr Chang? I'd love to hear."

Terry tried to not enjoy the spluttered, stumped look the flashed across the older man's face briefly. Chang hadn't expected Terry to talk back to a 'superior' with anything by acceptable, distant respect however casually he may acted towards Bruce. The man really didn't know Terry at all in the regards. And obviously Chang hadn't heard anything about him at all or at least nothing _good_, and was now trying to come up with something to say that wouldn't offend Terry – and by default Bruce. That was the last thing he wanted to do, and could be easily done since Bruce was clearly quite attached to the young man.

"Oh, only good things I'm sure Terry." Mairyn intervened quickly, smiling a thousand watts as she did so. Terry felt sorry for her, more than he had earlier. Though not enough to regret messing with her father, even if it was very awkward for her. To be stuck with this as her life – doubt talk, fancy parties with ulterior motives, false friendship that lasted as long as deals took and a father who noticed her only as a pretty tool to use, wasn't something he'd wish on anyone. Yet there wasn't anything he could do, in the end Mairyn control her own life. If she chose to try and help her father, then awkward situations were unavoidable.

"I'm sure the two of you have had a nice time together but time is getting on. Terry and I still have work to finish before tomorrow, so if you would excuse us..." Bruce smiled falsely at Chang. Terry wondered if he would ever lose the stomach knotting wariness that appeared whenever he saw Bruce smiling – it was an omen of nothing good when Bruce did his 'frail but nice old man' smile.

Muttering understandings and sympathies for the long night, Chang took his hand and enthusiastically promised to see them tomorrow at the meeting. He was _so_ looking forwards to it. Mairyn merely nodded to him in a rather disappointed but diplomatic manner, her natural flare vanishing meekly beneath the dominating airs of her father, as if the less attention drawn the better.

But as Terry reached the exit he swore he saw Mairyn mouth a 'see you tomorrow' behind her father's back, as she was guided forcefully towards another group like a champion show dog. He tried to smile reassuringly back as the door closed.

He had the _weirdest_ idea that patrol was going to be spent learning everything there was to know about Mairyn, her father and his business for tomorrow's meeting. As if Bruce, Batman or Gotham would demand anything less of him.

Nor would Terry do anything that would set him at a disadvantage, he was looking forwards to meeting Chang on a different kind of battlefield.

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Review please?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

(Thursday)

The next day seemed to dawn far too early for Mairyn's liking.

Although she hadn't even taken a sip of alcohol, curled up in a rather rumbled ball under her cover, she could felt a headache coming on. On the one hand she knew it must be extremely late in the morning and that she should get up...on the other hand her body felt like a clump of clay and she just couldn't raise enough wits to give a damn, never mind get up. She groaned out loud, stretching into weird angles like a cat, bone clicking.

"Mairyn, get up."

You have got to be kidding me, she whimpered inside. Mairyn was far from being a morning people and the very idea of dealing with her demanding father and his obsessive attitude made her feel tired and nauseous already.

What on earth could her father possible want with her this early in the day? Ok sure it was about noon, but it wasn't a school day (or at least for Mairyn considering she was miles away from her school) and Mairyn _hated _early mornings

Venomously. Viciously...and other mean-meaning words beginning with 'V'. Mairyn grunted vaguely, burrowing further down in the depths of the cover like a rabbit into a warm burrow.

Maybe he would go away? "Mairyn. Get. Up. Now." - Apparently not.

Groaning more pointedly, Mairyn pushed herself up onto her elbows and wigged her head out of the cover.

"Yeah, what?" She didn't have the patience to be polite this early. Her father glared disapprovingly down at her, with her messy her and half lidded eyes. She growled back.

"Mairyn, it's nearly noon. Stop being ridiculous."

Mairyn dropped her head on to the bed so he would see her roll her eyes, why on earth was he repeating her name? What did he want a prize for remembering it? Or to remind himself who she was? Hmmm...

"I think you should call that boy, what was him name? McGinnis...Terry. Yes, call him and see what he's doing." he glaring, she just knew he was glaring at her. She looked up, oh he was glaring. "Try to impress upon him what a good idea this deal is. If anything of the rumours about the two of them are true, Wayne will at least listen to the boy, if not...well I'm sure you can convince Terry to _convince _Wayne."

Mairyn didn't like the look on her father's face. She didn't like the shark grin or the unreadable glint in his eyes. For the first time she could ever recall Mairyn actually felt somewhat afraid of the man in front of her. It was weird considering she knew what he could do to a person, the things he had done to get deals closed in his favour. The illegal, immoral things... She held back a whimper as the man turned to the doorway.

"It's a school day, he'll be in school and the meeting starts at-"

"Arrange something at the same time then." He dismissed her, leaving her on her own.

Yet wide eyes stared at the door long after he had gone. Sometime she didn't know what to make of him, at others she really did believe that man had been capable of murdering her mother, his own wife.

And her possibly.

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It was lunchtime when he got the call on his mobile.

Half slumped on a table with a barely touched lunch in front of him, Terry hadn't been sure if he was going to cry or just not answer the phone. It was Wayne, it had to be, who else would call him during school hours?

As a result he nearly head butted his bowl of soup in surprise when – instead of Bruce's gruff, grounded tones – a light, breezy, most defiantly female, voice spoke down the phone. He had forgotten that he had given Mairyn his Vid-number last night and told her to call him if she needed him. It might have sounded a little premature but he really didn't like the sound of Mr Chang and well...

He had been raised in Gotham, cruelty and deceit was an expected personality trait. The chance to call Bruce and tell him about Mairyn's offer to hang out with him if he wasn't going to the meeting, had to take place ten minute before his next class (which he had ended up being late to _for a change_). Bruce had surprised him by encouraging him to go and 'find out anything you can from the girl, girls like her often harbour a lot of issue with their parents and we can use that to our advantage'. Whatever, Terry didn't like that idea of using Mairyn for anything - never mind against her own (if estranged) family.

In the end Terry had dragged Dana and Max (who hadn't actually needed that much persuasion) to Max's favourite and most popular Vid-Cade, when Mairyn had been waiting. The room was massive, actually being comprised of several floors with huge section missing to make the already big room look ridiculous bigger. The machines of similar objection were grouped together – e.g. Kids games at one area and adult only games on the opposite end – with a cinema, club-ish area and smallish food court speared throughout.

To most people their first impression was utter chaos, but Max, Terry and Dana had been come since they were old enough to sneak away from their parents with pocket money to blow on the games and therefore were only mildly impressed by the rather spectacular displays and 'exhibition' of modern 'Art'. Finding Mairyn, even though they had arrange to meet near the food court was still rather difficult as Max and Dana didn't have a clue what Mairyn looked like and Mairyn didn't know either of the girls.

When Terry finally found her – or rather she found him – he quickly realised that he had made a big mistake in forgetting to mention that Mairyn was rather pretty (mostly because he had forgotten himself). Dana, upon finding out that her boyfriend was dragging her off to a busy Vid-Cade to meet a rather pretty girl, hadn't reacted to Mairyn the way Terry had hoped she would.

Max too hadn't taken to the girl at first glance, mostly because something about the mixed teen had reminded her rather bitterly of Melanie Walker – an criminal ex-girlfriend that Max had not liked one bit, something about her leading Terry on (repeatedly!) and hurting her best guy pal just hadn't sat well with her.

Her mid-length bob had hung sensationally about her face, a smirk on her pale lips matching her mischievous blue eyes and her rather tomboyish (if expensive designer) clothes immediately stopped Terry in his tracks. Sure he thought Mairyn was dead hot and knew making out with her wouldn't be the worst thing in the world – he just wasn't interested in her in much except friendship. She wasn't his type of girlfriend (or lover), now he just had to convince Max and Dana of that.

"Jees, Terry, I should have guessed you'd be the type of guy to turn up at a meeting with two pretty girls on your arms!" Mairyn teased, leaning back on a metal pillar. Dana and Max both look taken aback (although wither it was over the rather tactless statement or Mairyn's effortless beauty, Terry wasn't sure) as Terry winced. He wasn't going to hear all about this later, "Thanks Mairyn."

She smirked, "No problem, Ter. So ... going to introduce your girls, pimp?"

Terry blushed deeply as Max elbowed him in the chest rather pointedly, "Only in his dreams. I'm Max, this is Dana. Terry's _Girlfriend_."

The emphasis wasn't missed and surprisingly Mairyn smiled. "Only really? The angelic, wondrous, dream-come-to-life Dana? Damn and here I was think Terry had dreamed up the prefect girlfriend! Aw well." She winked, "Plenty more fish in the sea!" Terry wasn't sure if it was too late to walk away like he didn't know this girl or kill himself before Max or Dana got to him. Hmmmm, then he's have to explain to Bruce why he was dead, damn. He just couldn't win.

"Thanks Mairyn, you have such a way with words." He didn't try to hide the sarcasm, which surprised Dana because he wasn't normally awake enough around her to be sarcastic.

The blue eyed teen straightened up, "Let get down to business, shall we? After all we are being paid to be here, and we must waste precious negation time, hmm? Where the Race X 6003 Diamond age games I hear so much about?" Terry tried –and failed – to stifle his sniggers at Mairyn's typical theatrical, slight flippant and extremely bewildering personality. Dana and Max were just staring at the girl like she had grown another horned, purple head and declared herself queen of Gotham and all things bunny. Mairyn just smiled indulgingly at them, waiting patiently for them to get over her.

Terry just could take it anymore and burst out laughing, ignoring that it had snapped the two females out of their shock and that they were now looking murderous at him – obviously blaming him for his slightly insane friend.

After he got his breath back – and stopped wincing at the pain in his rib cage from the laughing and the rather sadistic elbow from Maxine, he gasped out, "Max...knows every game here...She's almost as into... games as you are – if that's possible."

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Bruce checked his phone as he entered the meeting room. Terry, he knew, wouldn't be here today as he was out with Mairyn – not something Bruce had expected but not something entirely _un_expected.

He knew the game Chang was play, the kids dancing around each other when they themselves were too old. It was an old game, a very old game – after all what good where kids if for not playing spying for their parents? Bruce had no doubt that if Mairyn Chang knew anything on her father, his (unknown) son would no doubt charm it out of her; Terry was good at that sort of stuff even if the kid didn't realise it.

He stand down in one of the chairs heavily, he was too old to be doing this, at least physically as his mind was as sharp as ever. Chang wasn't late (as the meeting hadn't started yet) but he wasn't early and Bruce wondered what move he was going to make. Both inside and outside of the meeting room, actions and words could have dire consequence because a deal like this – a deal Wen-shen couldn't afford to lose – could make or break a man's career.

Tapping his finger he looked over the proposal again – to the naked eyes it appeared somewhat fair and even; to someone like Bruce who had seen more of this than Chang had been alive; the double talk, short cuts and loop hopes leapt off the page like fireworks. This deal, in its rawest form, wasn't going to go through, not on his watch. This was the sort of deal Derek Powers would have loved to have got his burning hands on.

An alliance between the two companies would have expanded both of their criminal empires in to areas previously undiscovered for them before – and that was precisely why Batman wasn't going to let that happen. He knew he could cut a deal that would be to Wayne-Powers Industries advantage and still cut Chang out of the gains but it was something he knew the man wouldn't let happen.

Chang was an expect, a man who had built his company with his bare hands and was as likely to let a deal with a global power fall through as he would sell his own daughter.

'Would put it past him to try and sell her though for the deal, if anything Terry tells me is true.' Bruce had look Chang up, the man was nothing short of a miracle in business terms, even if he still had a long way to go to get into the big league.

– but Bruce's old crime-fighter eyes had also told of the inconsistencies like in the proposal, even thing that looked right on the surface were was riddle with double dealing.

Chang _always_ had something on the other companies he was dealing with, blackmail even. The disappearances and murders at the times –even if they look completely unrelated – told Bruce Chang was a corrupt as Powers and just as willing to do anything to further his company – even murder. He was dangerous.

Sighing, Bruce closed the file. The man wasn't going to walk out here happy, that was for sure but Bruce knew if he cut back slowly, becoming more and more annoyed and stubborn with the more and more desperate man he would get the deal pushed through his way. Powers wasn't the only one who knew how use emotion and authority to get what he wanted.

And Bruce Wayne always got want he wanted in the end.

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Terry wasn't sure what this was meant to be accomplishing but he was sure it wasn't meant to be as much fun as it was.

And he was having fun with the girls; he and Dana were curled up on a couch/bench watching Mairyn and Max butt head. Both were trying to decide who was the better Vid-Gamer. Max had played these gamer well over a thousand times and had experience and practice on her side as well as foreside and planning. Max was able to manipulate the system, she knew her limits and she knew how to break them. She knew her enemy.

Mairyn on the other hand 'fought like Terry'. She was impulsive, flexible and rocked at the physical fit games. She was quick think and even quicker on her feet which meaning she could run circles around Max until the other girl found a weak spot and exploited it.

She didn't know her limits, leaving herself open for attack often but she'd was able to use her environment to her advantage something that Max wasn't quite as steady with. Both girls were equal in skill and brain-power and fought over the upper hand – using underhand methods.

Neither Terry nor Dana had ever seen anyone as good as Max before nor ever seen Max as focused on bring someone down. They had finally found someone who's enthusiasm nearly equalled Max's and while Terry didn't enjoy giggling and squeals (or being the messenger boy for hungry girls)he was glad of the alone time with Dana and getting to see Mairyn and Max laughing.

"Yes! And she shoots and SCORES! AND MAIRYN WIN AGAIN! Whoop!" Mairyn didn't even take her helmet off to do her victory dance. Max, grumbling, took her helmet off. It had been a close game, Mairyn just won by a hair.

Max crossed her arms, "Two out of three. Bet you can't do it again!"

Mairyn shrugged, taking her helmet off and putting it under her arm. She absently ran a hand through her hair to fix it, "No need to waste your money. Don't do flukes and I _never_ lose." She smiled as Max laughed and linked their arms. The two strutted over to the cuddling couple. Max sipped her bright blue drink.

"Good game?" Dana asked from her spot on Terry's chest, her eyes slightly wide with sleep. Max slide onto Dana's other side while Mairyn collapsed next to Terry.

"Totally and I have to admit I wasn't expecting to have this much fun in Gotham with my dad."

"Hmmm, I had been meaning to ask," Dana shifted to see Mairyn better, "Why _are_ you in Gotham? I mean aren't you missing school and stuff? Why did you need to come with your Dad?"

Mairyn groaned, "I didn't need to come – My dad decided missing school was worth getting his deal." – Seeing Dana and Max confused looks she elaborated, "My Dad heard about Wayne and Terry and decided I was more to the advantage than a female assistant. That's what assistant to people like Wayne and my Dad do. They basically spying to find as much dirt on the others as they can – we being the modern equivalent of servants and you won't believe the stuff servants say about their bosses. Besides Dad needed dirt on Wayne – recent dirt – and Terry looked like a good way to get it."

"Wait a minute." Max stood up, not quite believing that the girl, who could have been her long lost twin sister was admitting she was only hanging with them to get information of Terry's boss, "So this is why you're hanging with us? So you can report it all to Daddy?"

Mairyn backtracked, "Max, that's the reason _Terry's_ hanging with _me_. _He asked me to call_. And beside I wasn't planning on telling my Dad anything more that what I had already guessed from last night."

Terry raised an eyebrow, "And what exactly did you guess last night?"

Mairyn laughed, her hair falling into her face, "First off, I seriously don't think half the rumours about you two are true (and rumours say a lot in this business). I meant you're so not a gold digger and Wayne – as creepy as he is at times – isn't really the sort of guy I'd have thought would be into kids," She tilted her heads in mock thoughtfulness, "Younger models most defiantly, but despite the evidence I don't think you're really his type. _Sorry,_ Ter."

Max gagged on her drink, Terry jumped up, knocking a surprised Dana to the floor. He couldn't believe people would think about him like that. He knew about the rumours but still..."WHAT?"

Mairyn stared at him shocked, "Surely you knew about the rumours right? I mean, that'd all the elite do, that's how they communicate. And Wayne's history is steeped with them, so it's no surprise that one came up again – I meant you can't live ones like that down _ever_."

Dana picked herself up, angrily brushing dirt off her dress while shooting Terry death looks before turning to Mairyn, "What you mean? What 'rumours'? I know Wayne's ...odd...but why would people..."

"Wayne was a big name back in the hay day, still is in the right circles. The name Wayne demands serious attention and respect for the right kind for people." Mairyn tilted her head to the side, looking at Terry. "Wayne used to own this city, people called him the Prince and everything for a good reason too – I suppose it wouldn't be too hard for him to do it again if he wanted. But then he got old and he never married...or had kids,"

Mairyn stared into Terry's eyes searching for something, "so there was no one to take over when he couldn't handle it anymore. He started to slow down and pull out - people moved on and forgot about him. That's just what happens in this business."

Mairyn shrugged again, leaning back, "There always been rumours about Wayne's sexuality. Photographers use to follow him around every time he stepped out of the door and he had, like, a new girl every week. He probable dated half the eligible women in Gotham – and a few ineligible ones too. And he took a few orphans in, young male ones – most after they lost their parents tragically and didn't have anyone to turn too. They didn't stick around long, I think they all ditched Gotham and Wayne around their early twenties- I suppose they couldn't move without being connected to him in this City. What a life – or that, lack of one." She grabbed Max's juice and took a sip.

"Of course with such an active love life people talked – and kept on talking. I don't think anyone actually believed he slept with them, I don't, but I think it was more the thrill of the possibility that interested people."

Mairyn turned a mock critical eye on Terry, making a few fake 'hmm' and 'ahhhh', "and of course, Terry's falls quite neatly in Wayne's type if he _is _into that stuff. Might want to watch out Dana, you might have some serious competition. Terry could make a fortune." She laughed and winked leeringly at Terry.

Terry sat down with a scowl as Dana snorted, settling back into his arms," I can't believe people would talk about him like that. I mean the man's a bit creep, yeah, but not a pervert..._right _Terry?"

Terry couldn't help but glare down at her, "Com'on Dana, Bru-Wayne isn't like that. His love life isn't exactly something that comes up often, if at all. He doesn't talk about his past and he's isn't _my _type." He kissed Dana softly to drown her giggles.

Mairyn shrugged, her head falling back to rest on the back of the couch, "Like I said, I don't believe any of that myself. Wayne seemed nice –well nice-_ish _– when I meet him. If any rumours were true, it would be the other ones."

Terry's stomach dropped, "Other ones?"

The teenager narrowed her eyes, "Come on Terry, have you ever look in a mirror? You've got black hair and blues eyes – which asides from being Wayne's 'type' - you look just like the old guy. Especially when you look at the old pictures of him, he could be your double. Don't you wonder why so many woman throw themselves at you when you two are out together? You look like you could be his son. That's, you know, is why people say he's taking you on. Waiting until you're old enough to take over the family business and all..."

Terry wasn't sure if that was worse than the other one, at least Max and Dana hadn't started studying him to see if Bruce was his lover. He glared. Max and Dana shook their heads in wonder.

"Your right Mairyn, he does look like the Old Man, especially when he glares and all." Max smirked teasingly at him. Dana on the other hand sighed in amazement, "To think I've been dating a Bruce Wayne lookalike this whole time and I never noticed. Hmmmm, I think I kind of like that." The three girls started to laugh as he crossed his arms around Dana and sulked.

"Congrats Dana, you're the one who finally tied Bruce Wayne Junior down."

That sent the girls back into another giggle fit as he huffed, "I AM NOT BRUCE WAYNE'S SON!" He snarled and then blushed when half the room caught on and turned to stare at them. Max and Mairyn were on the floor in tears.

"Well it's not like it'd would totally weird if he _was_, I mean look Ter, the guy already helps out your family. Remember when you're mum got into trouble with those lawyers over that mix up? Wayne cleared that up for her." Max leant back, "And he got her that job offer. Maybe Bruce is your dad!" Max gave a mock gasp of surprise before sniggering.

"Personally I'd rather give up the money and fame than have that cold old coder like that for a dad." Dana shivered.

"Yeah, but Bruce likes Terry. I mean Terry's probably the only one the old man puts up with, so he got to feel something for him."

Terry pulled a face, "Can we please talk about something else? And not like I'm not in the room please? Bruce isn't my dad, he doesn't like me and I look nothing like him. Moving on..."

Mairyn laughed, "Oh come on Terry. It's only a-"

Bring, bring

Bring, bring

Bring, bring

The four teen each automatically reach for their phones.

"It's me." "Mine," "Got it!" "Huh?"

Terry and Mairyn exchanged a look. "I think the meeting ended early." Mairyn said with a grimace, standing up, "I...have to take this." She disappeared into the crowd. Terry nodded and followed her example, excusing himself from the other girls. Looked like the fun was over.

"Problem boss?"

* * *

Reviews help the soul


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

(Still Thursday – night-time)

Mairyn Chang was many things.

She was beautiful and smart (if not academically). She was witting and good at cracking jokes. She was athletic and competitive. She was good at vid-games and v-reality-games.

She was also a coward who preferred her life to the other people she had sent to their deaths.

Mairyn knew that. While she had never seen anyone die nor had she ever seen anyone hurt, she was well aware of what happened to the people who angered, disappointed or misjudged her father. She was aware of her part often play in it and was more ashamed that she could admit. She was also aware of how ashamed her mother would have been in her – after all her mother had done to keep her on the straight and narrow, to make sure she knew what was right from wrong and Mairyn let her down.

She hadn't lied to Terry when she said that it was her job to find out information on people, she'd just down played what that information ended up it.

She didn't like it; in fact she outright hated it. She hated her father for the things he made her do, for the things he did himself, for the length he was willing to go to for his stupid company and more over she hated herself for not being brave enough to stand up to him.

Yes, her father was a terrifying man, whose cruelty and cunning was often hidden behind a polite persona which fooled even the most observant of people. She had seen it before; people just didn't understand how far her father was willing to go to get what he wanted. For all the jewels and expensive clothes, cars and trip he showered over her, Mairyn knew her father didn't feel anything for her except what he wanted people to perceive that he did.

He didn't love her. He didn't love her brother and he didn't love her mother. They were just meant to look like the perfect idea family he wanted everyone to see. He father wasn't capable of feeling anything barring what his company needed him to feel. She was useful to him purely because she was useful to his company - if she ever out ran that usefulness...

Sighing Mairyn crossed her arms and sank backwards into the couch. She wished she wasn't in Gotham. Really she did. She wished she had never heard of the place.

It wasn't because Terry and his friends weren't nice- they were, really nice in fact and that was the problem. They were nice to her, and she liked them. Liked them enough that she was starting dread the coming conversation with her father. Like them enough to almost want to help them although she doubted they'd listen to her.

'Whatever happens isn't your fault. You told him, you told them what you were going to do. Terry knows what I'll be telling my dad so whatever comes of it – It's not my fault! This time it isn't my fault...' Mairyn buried her head into her pillow. It was her mother all over again.

She could have saved her too but she didn't. Only this time if anything happened to Terry it would be her fault because she'd be the one telling on him. She was the one spilling the beans.

'He'll being doing the same things just now with Wayne.' She reasoned.

'Yeah but Wayne would never do what your father's got planned.' She shivered, "Wayne would never hurt you, even under all that gruffness, he wouldn't hurt anyone for a stupid deal.'

'Maybe nothing with happen this time. Maybe the deal with Wayne wouldn't need 'helping' along.' But in her heart Mairyn knew that if good old Terry respected Wayne then there was no way the deal was going to go smoothly for her father. She almost wished she could warn the old man; tell him that whatever he didn't want to give to her father wasn't worth what Wen-shen Chang would taken from him. Nothing would be worth it, not all the money in the world.

But not Terry. It couldn't be Terry. Not nice, warm Terry with his pretty girlfriend and funky should-have-been-sister and his adorable little brother. Why should good people suffer? Why did she have to do this to him? He was so nice to her, he was her friend – So was Max and Dana, how could she betray them like this?

"Mairyn, come here."

She shivered, wondering if all children felt cold when their father's called them. It was about time he got back from work – even after he called her home hours ago and then didn't turn up. She stood up, knowing her already furious father would not be amused if she kept him waiting. She miserably wondered if Judas ever regretted what he had gone before he'd even done it.

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"Mind giving me a hint here, boss? Like what I'm looking for exactly, I mean there is _a lot_ of paper work on this computer and-" Batman growled out as he slammed a hand down on the desk.

"Try anything that stands out. Something that wouldn't match up to what Chang's doing in Gotham, officially."

Batman humphed under his breath because _that_ was such a lot to go on- in fact, that wasn't anything to go on. Bruce should try something new once in a while and actually let him know what he was doing – except that might just kill the old man. As it was, did the old man know how much boring rubbish was on this?

The room, Chang's temporary office, was full of drawers of disks and the man had several computer and drives with him – it would take hours if not days to comb through the information, never mind find anything relevant. They didn't have that much time. They didn't have any time in fact, they need the proof now if they were going to bring Chang down.

Batman rubbed his eyes through his mask, as he did a quick search through the main computer to see if anything was relative. There was, just nothing that was of interest to them right now.

"Chang's got a lot of plans from Gotham, Bruce. I don't like it. I don't need to speak gobbledygook to know none of this is good, not with the Power vacuum after Powers fell – and it looks like Paxton's got a pen pal in Chang as well."

"We already knew that – anything good?"  
"Nope, just business junk. But then, Paxton maybe be an idiot but I doubt Derek Powers would let his son get into the habit of leaving incrimination evidence around."

"Unfortunately that would make our job to easy. Keep looking."

It was times like these, when Batman needed to break out some of his less noble crime fighting skill, that Terry regretted working solo. Max would have had this cracked and half solved by now, instead Batman was stuck searching manual through the different files. Maybe he should re-consider having a partner.

"Damn Bruce!" He swore as intense silence dragged on with little to no progress, "I 'm not getting anything – _anything_! This is ridiculously – Chang's too smart to leave information like that lying around. If he's got a connection in Gotham it _wouldn't_ be on his computer, nice and gifted wrapped for the Cops."

Batman could almost imagine Bruce shaking his head, "Chang's got to have something on there."  
"Why? We don't. We don't keep anything on us that could be tracked back to this, so why wouldn't Chang? He's not the only smart corrupt businessman around, look at Powers and how long it took us to _sink _him."

"Ter-_Batman_, we need to get Chang. If not on this, that anything that could send Chang down until we can pin him."  
"What this about, old man? Putting down a corrupt businessman or the competition?"

"Don't talk to me like that, McGinnis. Chang is dangerous, he's a young Powers, and we can't let him get a foothold in Gotham like Powers did. I don't want this deal to end in blood." The silence on the other end was cutting.  
"What does that mean? Bruce?" The man didn't say anything else and not for the first time Batman wished he had eyes in the cave, "_Bruce_? What-"

"Chang's not going to go down quietly. The man's more stubborn than I thought he'd be, and smarter. He's going to pull something to make the deal go down his way and I don't want that to happen."  
"His way? You mean he's like Powers? But he'd... of course he would." Batman sighed and stood up. He, personally, knew all about Derek Power's 'deal clenching' skills.

"I'm checking out the rest of the apartment. Check back in five." He cut the link before Bruce could reply.

Of course Chang was another Derek Powers. Terry had known from the moment he'd first laid eyes on the man that he was no good – he didn't need Mairyn's bitter stories to see the dangerous men from the fools. He was raised in lower Gotham after all; Slime balls were common as buildings.

That didn't mean Terry, if not Batman, wasn't happy with this. It seemed cruel to him, to take down Chang and leave Mairyn without a family, without one parent, even one she was mad at.

He wondered if he'd be able to face her afterwards.

The apartment was nice- and expensive but only the best for Wayne-Powers guests. It was a company building, used to house out of town visitors who rented it at a special 'discounted' price. To Batman it was an easy way to investigate the corrupt men who were draw to Gotham and her 'opportunities'. Chang being only one of many but a persistent one – his reputation was quickly gathering infamously.

Batman closed the door to the study after making sure that everything was exactly as he found it, before he stepped into the open plan, kitchen/living room/dining room. Currently Chang and Mairyn were being entertained by one of the executives of Wayne-Powers at a dinner party and so were not there to witness his searching. But how long they were going to stay gone wasn't something he or Bruce could be sure of.

He paused for a minute to consider an idea but couldn't think of a plausible reason not too – well Batman couldn't, Terry could think of more than a few reasons. But then he often did things as Batman that he's never do as Terry McGinnis.

Raiding his new friend's room being one of them.

Mairyn's room wasn't filled with many personal possessions – understandable as she wasn't staying long – but the room still had a feel of her personality. Maybe it was the multi-coloured blanket thrown over the bed, or the vastly varying colours of her suitcase or the few quickly tacked up posters of superheroes and superstars. He checked the desk, there were several disks which were labelled as homework (he checked, they were) and he searched her computer – Games sites, homework help and Chat rooms, nothing unusual. Nothing suspicious.

He came across a picture in one of the drawers, creased and faded. It held a woman and two children. Mairyn, her brother Q and their, deceased, mother Terry guessed. He quickly put it back after noting the three were wearing martial arts robes. But Mairyn had already told him her mother had been the one who taught her to fight.

A quick search through her bags didn't produce much_, except_ a photocopy of several old news clippings. They were all about Wayne Enterprise and Bruce, going as far back as Bruce's parents' murder. He was even more disturbed to realise that there were print offs about his father's murder and a few from afterwards about his appointment to Bruce's assistant.

It didn't surprise him, but it was still unnerving.

He opened the wardrobe; there were several posh dresses of rich blues fading to glinting white ones, similar to the one Terry meet her in first. They didn't suit her – physical yes they were flattering but their subtler attraction didn't fit Mairyn's blunt, playful personality. Her father was the one who bought her dresses after all.

The rest of the clothes did fit her – Jeans, a rainbow of coloured tops, t-shirts and tunics and several shoes to match. A quick root around didn't produce anything until he brushed his fingers along the top. It was a book, a diary – Mairyn's diary.

"Huh, didn't think you were that sort of girl Mari. Wonder if Max has a diary too?"

He sat down of the bed and opened it at the last enter – Yesterday night, the night of the party. Skimming down several bits jumped out at him:

_'Dad's so on my back again. I think this deal's pushing him over the edgy, he's worse than normal. He's obsessing over Wayne and Co...He's after this stupid deal and it's doing my head in..."_  
_'Meet a nice guy today, names Terry, he's the one who works for Wayne, the one Dad wants me to find more out about...He's really nice, not like the totally jerk I'd thought he be – I mean he's really sweet, a bit broody but sweet. We talked all night and...'_

_'Terry wants to meet later, I think this will keep Dad happy for now. I don't want this to be like before, Terry's too good to get caught up in this sort of stuff. He's got a little brother, he talks about Matt all the time, I don't want anything to happen to either of them...not this time...not them.'_

Terry's blood ran cold. He flicked to front of the book, to several of the earlier entries. They were different from the one he just read but left him just as reeling. This was the reason Terry wasn't allowed to keep a diary, some secrets were best left unspoken. No evidance at all was the best way to keep secrets.

'Looks like I'm not the only with dark secrets - Mairyn and her family's got their own fair share of it.'

It explained Mairyn's skills and how she could sneak up on him as well as her obsessive interest in him...

Batman turned his radio back on, "Bruce, I think I found something you'll want to see."

"Is it involved?"  
"I...don't' know."  
"No time. They're back."

The sound of a door unlocking and voices made Batman's head snap up and he swore. He jumped up from the desk where he was perched but hesitated. He couldn't take the book, Mairyn would freak out if it disappeared (with what was inside it, he didn't blame her)...but he couldn't let this slide...this was _big_...

'I'll come back after school. I call Max and get her to meet Mairyn and get the book then. I'll get Bruce to _decipher _it then.' Batman sighed as he quickly returned the book to its right place before escaping out the window.

He didn't notice the wide blue eyes catch him flying away.

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"You know, you never really told me how the meeting went. Not great, I take it?"

"That's one way to look at it."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you're meant to be on patrol. Start patrolling."  
"Yes but I think you'll find, Wayne, that my contract says assistant and what kind of assistant would I be if I didn't ask about what's going on?"

"A quiet one."

"Fuuu-nny, so funny in fact I forgot to laugh. But really what's going on?"

"Mr Chang didn't like the terms of our agreement the way I laid them out. In fact I believe he was more than a little dissatisfied by them."

"So he's really pissed? How much?"

"Powers' level."

"Wow. Really? Nuclear? I feel for Mairyn."

"Speaking of her how did you date go."

"It wasn't a date! It was a meeting and we went to the arcade and well she and Max messed around for a bit on the games."  
"MCGINNIS!"

...

"Gees, Bruce calm down before you do your heart in."  
"You got Max involved in this?"  
"...yes - but Mairyn's real nice-"

"-It isn't Mairyn that has me worried Terry, it's her underworld connected father that has me concerned. You realise they might try and use Maxine against you and therefore us?"

"Why would they...and even if they did it wouldn't be hard to connect to connect us to Max, everyone knows she's my best friend and that she did 'temp' work for you. If Chang was after her, her meeting Mairyn hasn't changed anything."

"Yes, if Chang was from Gotham. This deal is very sudden Terry, Chang wouldn't have had a lot of time to dig into us too deep and he doesn't have the _connections _in Gotham to find that kind of dirt – or at least not until he got here. You could be putting Maxine's life at risks here."  
"Ok, ok, I get the message, I'll keep the two apart for now on alright?"  
"It might be too late now, McGinnis."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Go to Maxine's house, stay there all night – or better yet, get the girl to spend the night at yours, don't let her out of your sight until I tell you too."

"She's not going to like this."

"Your problem, not mine – Go."

"Sir Yes Sir!" Terry snarled as he closed the link between them, upset and insulted that Bruce thought he'd ever let anything happen to Max...or Dana.

Bruce on the other hand, closed his pulsing eyes and rubbed them, trying to suppress the groan fighting its way up. This wasn't good, not overwhelmingly bad but not good either. If the way Chang had acted yesterday, letting his mask slip for a minute ans show his more tempermental side - and from his history, Bruce knew that man wasn't going to let anything slide.

The man was going to be hunting all across Gotham to find anything to use against Bruce or Wayne-Powers to seal the deal – anything and Terry might have just handed him the perfect thing.

Signing tiredly, he picked up a single piece of paper sitting on his desk...

i kNOw YoUR sECreT.

DO aS YoU ArE tOLd

OR ELsE

yOu'Ll NEveR SeE THeM

AlIVe AGaIn...

He wearily as he picked up the phone.

Looked like he'd be calling in a favour from Barbara tonight, God only knowing she'd start counting them again.

* * *

Reviews let me know if to continue or not. But I think things get better as time progresses. XD


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

(Friday morning)

When Terry finally collapsed into his bed, he was thankful to every god in existence that it hadn't taken much pushing from him and Max to convince Dana to have an impromptu sleepover at Chelsea's with Max. Actually, once Terry had informed Max of what was going on, Max had been the one to arrange everything. But then Max always seemed to make things happen.

It wasn't anything surprising, Chelsea was always throwing sleepovers at short notice and enjoy having friends over – she said that it helped to relieve the boredom of being an only child in way which TV and the Net never could.

And while Mr Tan hadn't been keen, he had finally relented when Max told him she would be there and that it was a short notice-all-night-study session for a surprise test tomorrow which they had decided would carry on over the weekend too. No one could say 'no' when Max was determined to make them say 'yes'. Even Bruce. He was wittled down to a 'not likely' or 'possibly'.

Of course, Dana had demanded to know why it was so important that she and Max be anywhere but in their own home over the next few nights and why they weren't allowed to let each other out of sight. And Terry really knew that he was obliged to tell her but had managed to put it off by swearing to tell her after the busy the weekend.

Max thought it was really Batman work, Dana guessed that it was Wayne work again– and they were both right in a way, Terry just didn't want to admit to them that because his foolishness they might be at risks of getting attacked. He was glad both girls trusted him enough to understand that he would only ask if it was serious. Given how often he let them down, he was relived they weren't being too difficult about it.

It had been arranged that Chelsea would drive the girls to and from school and then to her mother's flat in metropolis for the three day weekend – they would both safe and out of Gotham which was the best Terry could do on short notice. Terry had considered requesting the League to keep an eye on them but thought that that might be pushing caution into paranoia and settled to ask either Aquagirl or GL later to do it instead. Both liked him and neither were the sort to push if Batman asked them with confidence and secrecy. At worst they might think he had issues with letting his partner and girlfriend out alone where he couldn't protect them. Maybe he was acting a little too much like Bruce for his own comfort, but at least they would be safe.

Now all Terry had to worry about was Mairyn.

Chang wasn't likely to go after Terry or his family – the man wasn't that desperate yet and if Terry or his family went missing, there would be no covering it up. It would be all over the Net in hours and that just wasn't Chang's style –he was more subtle than that. If things started to go shady with a deal in the middle of a media crisis, there was no doubting that even Bruce would be shut down if the police got suspicious. If Barbara-Mother-Bat-Gordon had any reason to believe either men had something to do with one of her kids disappearing... well, no one ever did see the Joker and Harley Quinn after that one time.

But Mairyn...

Unlike Bruce Terry didn't see her as threat. She was a victim. He liked her -a lot and he considered her to be both his friend and an harmless bystander. Mairyn, he trusted – with his friendship and with his life if it came down to it. Mairyn wasn't the sort of girl to let bad things happen to those around her. No more, at least, than he or Max ever could. In the short time he been around her, everything Bruce had taught him and every trick he'd picked up told him Mairyn could be trusted and that she was a good person. And if he could, he was going to help her get far away from her controlling father. She deserved so much better than a father like that...

Bring...

Bring...

Bring...

'You. Are. Kidding me?' Terry whined despairingly as he pried an eye open. 7:30 am – Damn it. Was he evil in a past life? Did he destroy a few civilisations or start a few world wars? If not, why did the gods hate him? Maybe he should take a leaf from Diana's book and sit down and have a nice long talk with destiny...

Groaning, Terry forced his body to obey his mind and get up and ready for school. Every motive was the same automatic one he had developed and encourage after a few years of late night crime fighting. He kicked his brother's door to make sure Matt was semi-conscious. He hoped this deal was going to be over soon. He didn't want to be doing all nighters stalking his girlfriend and best friend for the rest of his life.

The rest of his very short life. Because Max would kill him. And then maybe Dana would help kill him again.

Then it would be Barbara's and Bruce's turn.

Terry sighed and rubbed his eyes. Well, no one had said Batman was an easy lifestyle – but they had said that it was a thankless job. Terry would settle for a goodnight sleep and stress free night, happily instead.

BbBbBbBbBbBb

(Friday, afternoon)

It's an annoying thing of being a part of a family that you often have to 'contribute to the betterment of others'. Regardless of how it was put, Terry still didn't want pick his bratty brother up from school when he was in the middle of a case. But atlas he didn't have a choice. Not if he wanted to still live in a house with a warm, never used bed and eat his mother's cooking. Or so she said.

"At least the girls are out of town." He muttered, swinging a leg over his bike as he undid his helmet. He loved his bike but he really needed a car. A nice car too - like Chelsea's. A car didn't get you wet and a car let you carry things without getting something sharp poked in his rib cage. Maybe he see if Bruce would stretch to it..._pssf_. Not a chance.

Both Max and Dana were gone, having bolted school way before the school bell rang on Chelsea's encouragement. They's probable be out of Gotham city limits by now and on their way to Metropolis – Terry would have to remember to stop by the Metro-Tower and see if GL or Aquagirl were willing to help out. He could do that after he sto- um, liberated Mairyn's diary and left it with Bruce to decode.

It was a good thing for Terry that Matt often stayed at the after school clubs -because the primary school finished before him and Matt was even more annoying when he was bored. Much more annoying.

And as Terry was often late picking him up, Matt had joined the Batman Watch Group which Terry didn't think it was half as funny as Max did. But then Max was the same girl who had bought Matt (and herself) a giant stuffed black Bat in the shape of the old Bat-symbol who she had affectionate call 'Baby-Bat'. He was reminded of the 'Stalker Incident' every time he saw Matt with it. Because Matt really was a 'Baby-Bat' to some people...

He wasn't the only one waiting at the gates as small children trailed out in twos and threes, he ended up close to Mrs Jones, Matt's friend Shawn's mum. Terry wondered why he didn't see as much of Mrs Jones as he use too, his mum and her were close old friends and as far as he know they hadn't fallen out...

"Ah Terrance, dearie, how are you?" The woman all but shouted in her thick Irish accent. Terry flinched, no, oh no – how on earth could he have forgotten? Not _The Name_...He _hated _being called by his _full_ name.

"Terrance – been busy I hear, always working away at that old manor house, getting your mum all in a state. So tells me, dearie, what's our Lord and Master like then? Huh? I can only imagine what an old house like that is like on the inside – the things I hear Wayne keeps in it! Now dearest, I've been hearing all sorts of things about you, well I don't believe any of them. I mean some of things those people say, disgusting and horrible. I keep telling them, 'I know that boy, Terrance's a good boy, and he'd never do any of the things you're harping on about.' But really Terrance, they're not true are they? Because..."

Oh, yeah, that's was why he and his mum avoided Mrs Jones. As nice a woman as she was, she was also the world's worst gossip and had no tact or sense enough to realise that talking about what people said about his dad's murder or about Mister Wayne wasn't something she was meant to say to their faces. They tried to not hold it against her but it was...hard. Terry didn't want to hear want people said about him and he didn't want his mum to hear it either.

Matt had better hurry up because there was no amount of family duty or money in the world that could make Terry suffer through Mrs Jones' gossip and lectures a second longer that was necessarily polite. No wonder Shawn all but moved into their house on weekends. He must have it worse that Max did with a mum like that.

"Hey Terry, Hi Mum."

"Hello Mrs Jones -oh you're here, I thought you'd forgotten again." Two short black haired, boys appeared, acting for all the world like two non-identical twins. Their antics reminded people of what Terry and Max used to act like at school, being inseparable twin of chaos and mayhem. Nothing had changed then.

Terry swatted Matt lightly over the head, to which the little boy jump and 'glared', "Thanks for the vote of confidence Twit." _I could always just leave you here with Mrs Jones, if it wasn't for the fact I know she doesn't think you're old enough to tie you shoes laces never mind actually talk/lecture you._  
"Yeah well you're a dreg! – You're always late."

Smack! "Don't swear or I'll tell mum, got it?" Terry just knew he'd get the blame for this, he knew it.

"Oh Mattie dear, how are you?" Mrs Jones gasped as she released her son who flew several feet away, abandoning his best friend/brother to the tender mercies of his mother.

Mrs Jones sweep Matt into her famous killer hugs while Terry quickly sidestepped, happy that he was long gone from the 'cute whittle boy' stage but enjoying Matt's torment none the less. It was certainly something that cheered him up. "I'm fine, Mrs Jones..._Really_." Matt gasped as she let go, subtly rubbing his ribs. Terry pointedly elbowed him to remind him to play nice – he was the only one to catch the bitter end remark under his breath. He'd be getting the blame for that too.

"Honestly Mattie, its Auntie Anna and you too Terrance, I keep telling you and you two always forget!"

Terry cut in quick before the next speech about how ungrateful they were started, "Sorry Mrs- Auntie Anna, we just don't see you as much now and we don't want to be, like, too rude or anything."

The woman's eyes softened slight, "Oh of course dearies, it doesn't matter. I know how hard thing must be with you after...well, I'm sure your all be keeping very busy, too busy to think much, hum? Now remember, Terrance, you'll be dropping Matthew off at six o'clock, I'll be giving him his dinner. I'd take him now but Shawnie has a dentist appointment and..."  
"No, that okay Mr- Auntie Anna, Matt can do his homework until then." He'd just have to talk to Bruce over the phone about Mairyn then. Hopefully his mum would be in sharp and he wouldn't have too. Although why Matt couldn't walk the fifteen minute walk around the corner to Mrs Jones's block confounded Terry completely. He'd probably be expected to walk Matt all the way up to her front door as well.

"Come on Twip, we gotta go. Bye Auntie Anna, Shawn." Terry nodded and handed Matt the spare helmet. Matt waved excitedly at Shawn and Mrs Jones as they clambered into their car.

"Hey Terry, can we stop off at Mister Smoothies? Please!"

"You got money?" Terry grabbed the handles of his bike.

"Yeah!" Matt thrust his hands into his pockets and pulled out a couple of creds. It wouldn't pay for a large cookie but Terry figured he didn't have anything better to do otherwise and it would keep Matt off his back tonight.  
"All right but keep close, right? No run up and down like a deranged splicer monkey."

"A splicer monkey? Oh that'd be soooo cool!" Oh god, what had he unleashed?

Terry grabbed Matt's hood and dragged the boy across the street, just to making sure Matt wasn't going to get himself ran over and leave Terry to take the blame. Again. Terry pushed his bike along, as the two walk into the short cut alley between the school road and Mr Smoothie. It would take less time, even if he had to push the bike down it.

Matt danced about him, jabbering on about something or another, doing a rather impressive impression of a deranged splicer monkey. Terry couldn't decide if he was annoyed, amused or just tired, so he said nothing, letting his little brother blow off steam after sitting still for the last seven hours. Mattie hated sitting still as much as Terry did, which must be why interactive classes were always their best subjects. At least it was something that Terry could claim they had in common excluding parentage.

Terry glanced around the alley. It was oddly quiet given that the after school clubs had just finished and Terry _knew_ lots of parents used the short cut home. So where was everyone? Or was it just his imagination?

It had to be, the deal with Chang was messing with his head, making him jumpy over nothing. That and a sleepless night with Bruce harping in his eat about mistrust and double-crossing. If anything was wrong, Matt didn't notice as he gave an enthusiastic retelling of a play ground fight that lunch time between two of his friends. Terry doubted half the moves with physically possible for nine years olds.

"Hey Matt, stick close alright?" The small boy shot Terry an annoyed look but he didn't care. Terry's bat-senses were shrieking and it was hard for him not to slip into bat-mode and a fighting stance.

Terry wondered what Mairyn was doing. Now that he thought about it she hadn't called today like she had promised she would, and Terry was worried about her. He knew Chang wasn't a good guy and certainly a bad father. With the deal going bad for Chang he worried Mairyn was going to get the brunt of Chang's tempter and maybe even hurt.

He knew Chang wasn't abusive but... you could never really tell could you? Batman had taught Terry that things were rarely like how people wanted them to look. After what was in her diary...that changed things. That changed things drastically. Terry knew Bruce had looked into Chang's history, maybe even Mairyn's, so either Bruce wasn't telling him about this or the man didn't know. Which was worse Terry could figure out.

"Hey...Terry?" Matt's whisper made Terry's head snap around. His knuckles, white around the handle of the bike. "Yeah?"

"...where is everyone?"

Hell let loose with a roar and a bang.

There was a clatter of tin on stone and the area burst into purple fog, as the knock out gas expelled. Terry swore, dropping the bike, his bag and grabbed Matt. The small boy screamed but Terry didn't stop, he bolt back the way they came. He pulled his sleeves down and covered Matt's mouth. He just tried to not breathe himself. The Bat instinct took over control in a heartbeat.

No good. Blocked. Alternate exit needed. Damn. Terry spun around.

A man, or several, dressed in black and in gas masks, jumped forwards trying to grab them. Terry put Matt down, his head spinning slightly from the gas and gave over into Batman mode completely. On guard and readying every martial art skill he knew.

"Matt, RUN!" He attacked.

It was basic stuff. Punch, kick, duck, faint, jab. All was as effective as he could give it. More complex stuff chucked into surprise them. They weren't expecting him to know anything. Terry threw everything into it as his little brother darted under the outstretched arms.

Handing trying to catch him. Not going to happen. No one was going to get Matt – over his dead body. Terry's head ach got worse and he started to cough. He didn't stop moving. His reflexes weren't affected or dulled by the gas even as his eyes watered. He was putting good fight to the surprise of the men. He was more than a match for them together – but this wasn't a fair fight.

Bang. A man got hold of him enough to throw him into a group of old trash cans, knock then to the ground and making his chest hurt. Ow,owwwww. That hurt, his ribs...

No, very bad. Knock affect starting. Damn. Faster. Think! Get up!

He staggered to his feet, ribs hurting. He pushed his way thought the gas – it was strong stuff but Terry was more that use to the effects and was fighting harder than ever before. He sunk back into fight mode and lashed out. It only took him twenty seconds to react, to get up and fight back.

It took him even less to realise the truth.

He'd been wrong. A cold, horrified sensual ran over him. Fear. _He was wrong_. _Bruce _was wrong. These's weren't opportunist Jokerz or T's. These wasn't gangs or organised thugs. These were professional. Chang wasn't going after the girls; he was after Terry...and Matt. No, Terry wasn't going to let that happen. No. Not Matt. Chang was going to _pay_ for this.

He landed a kick between one of the men's legs and he went down, screaming through the mask. Terry spun around; Matt was gone as far as he could see. His vision as blurring and he was swaying, the purple mist was getting in the way. Another attacked; Terry jumped and aimed at kick at his head. The man grabbed his leg and twisted.

Snap. Pain shot down his leg and Terry fell, hit the ground hand- winded. His eyes watered as he tried to force a pitiful amount of air into his lungs. Pain curled around every bone in his body and bright light flashed in his eyes. Shock, overwhelming.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, Fuck.

He knocked that one out quick, the guy wasn't expecting it. Wasn't expecting a kid with a broken leg to fight back. He leant over the down teen jeeringly. Terry kicked his feet out from under him and broke his jaw in two places. With one punch. He didn't care if he got brutal with these crooks. They'd get a hell lot more if he was able. But he couldn't get up; his leg wasn't holding his weight. Terry grabbed a wall as the world jerk under his good leg – Bad. Very Bad. Gas...damn it...

Terry reached up and touched his nose. Something wet was on his face. Oh, he was bleeding; he didn't even remember the guy landing a hit on his face... A single, terrified scream torn through the mist, and froze Terry's heat, setting his blood on fire. His brain jolted awake again.

Matt. No. NO!

He lurched forwards – Matt. He need... to get to Matt! He stumbled and fell, his legs weren't working properly. His head span, vomit working its way up his throat. No, Matt...needed him...couldn't let anything.

Phone. Yes...he needed to call Bruce...Bruce could help...get Matt...Get the Commish...Help...

Terry forced himself to his knees, body screaming protests. It was most too much- the pain, the injuries, the gas... He couldn't even think...Forgot about the phone...

But if he could get through Bruce –Bloody-Wayne's training routines – he could make the. God. Damn. Call.

He pushed numbing fingers into his pocket and pulled his phone. His vision blurred and he gasped for breath. Shit. Air. His ribs must be hurt, bruised at the least because he couldn't breathe. He grasped, painfully gulping air down. He flicked the phone open and pressed the button. It rang out.

Terry tried to think straight, about what the need to say...

"Bruce..."

Pain exploded out the back of his head and he slumped forwards, unconscious. The phone slid across the ground, silently ringing out. A man stood behind him, body shaking in rage and pain.

"Ghot hym. Bhastard, Kizll Hhpm noaw?" He spat a mouth full of blood out onto the ground, rubbing his broken jaw. He dropped his gas mask on the ground, he didn't need it anymore and besides they had been immunities against this strain. Another limbed over, a small still body over his shoulder.

"No. We've to get both of them. Tell the boss to have the money ready or else."

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Mary glanced at the clock as she stirred the pot.

6:25. It was pasta, Italian style. It was a treat for Terry, given that he had been working so hard over the last few weeks. She knew all about the big deal Mr Wayne was brokering with Chang Enterprises – Terry had told her all about it and she couldn't be more proud with her boy, helping with a big business deal. Warren would have been so happy to see Terry now, acting so mature and grown up. Even if she didn't get to see her not-so-little boy as much anymore, she figured it was just part of growing up. At least she still had Mattie.

Mary sighed and glanced at the clock again. She hoped he would actually come, but he hadn't called to say he was going to Mr Wayne's and he and Matt were gone before she got home. And she had been early too. She hoped Matt had remembered everything, including his tooth brush.

She resisted the urge to call Anna and see if her boys were there and if Terry had left yet. Poor boy was probable unable to escape Anna's clutches. God only knowing Anna couldn't shut up once she got started. Mary chuckled to herself, she was sure Terry would be a little more that horrified if he was stuck in 'Auntie Anna' house. He'd always been awkward around Anna, not wanting to offend one of his mum's few friends and yet still disliking the woman who insisted on using his hated full name. At least she's stopped calling him 'Terry-Berry'. Mary couldn't even think about it as she tried not to burst out laughing.

The house was almost unnervingly quiet but it didn't bother Mary, who was happy for the soothing silence for once. She glanced at the clock, before turning the heat off and moving the hot pot over to the sink. Nearly ready.

Bring, Bring, Bring.

Damn so much for silence. Humming, she grabbed the phone and jammed it under her shoulder so she could use both hands for draining the pasta.

"Hello, McGinnis Household."

"Hiya Mary. Is Terry there?"

Mary frowned as Anna's slight annoyed voice flowed across the phone. Her hands were shaking under the stilled weight of the pot. She stopped in the middle of the floor.

"No, of course not. He's dropping Matt off at your house, isn't he?"

"No, he isn't. I even reminded him to bring him over at six for dinner time, its going cold. Is Mattie there?"

Mary throat when dry and her arms started to shake violently, something moved in her stomach. "He's...not at your house?"

"No, Mary I've already said he isn't...Mary? Mary, are you there?"

She dropped the phone and the pot, not caring about the boiling hot water splashing over the floor or about the pasta mashed into floor as she ran out the room. She burst into her youngest son's room and quickly searched it. She needed...to find it. If it wasn't here, then...well she didn't know but...

She found the overnight bag she'd packed last night under a pile of dirty clothes. She couldn't keep the strangled cry down or the hot tears are pouring down her cheeks. No, no no no... Terry and Matt hadn't left early, they hadn't come home at all. Mattie's school bag wasn't there either, or his coat. She checked Terry's room and none of his stuff was there either.

She jumped to her feet and ran back out the room and into the wet kitchen. She grabbed the phone and hung up on a protesting Anna. She punched into Terry's number and listened.

"This number is busy. Please call back again later."

Came on Terry, this is _not _the time to be gossiping to Max. Or at least Mary hoped that was what her son was doing. She hung up and tried again. Same thing. She tried again, still disengaged. Mary tried to swallow the sob building in her mouth and brush away the tears. But she couldn't.

Mary knew Gotham. She knew what happened there. She knew what could have happened if her young sons hadn't been seen since four o'clock. It was enough to make her sick, to just think about it. Jokers, T's, the pure amount of sick, pervert nutters that roamed Lower Gotham... She prayed to any god above that Terry had just taken Matt to cheese-Dan's or Max. Please.

She hung up and dialled Max's number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Max, sorry, is Terry there?" She rushed so fast she wondered if Max understood a word.

"Sorry, this is Max's sister. Umm, Terry's not here. In fact, Max's isn't either. She's in Metropolis with friends this weekend. With Dana and that other girl...Chelsea." Oh. That...wasn't good.  
"Oh, um, thanks – sorry."

"No problem, Mrs McGinnis. I'll tell Max you called though – Terry too, if he turns up."

The phone went dead and Mary tried to not go hysterical. Tried. She forced herself to breath, and not panic. Just because Terry wasn't at Max's, that Max and Dana wasn't even in town and Terry wasn't answering his phone, didn't mean anything. Really it didn't. It just didn't help her not break down. Trying not to let her voice break, she dialled the only other number she knew that could tell her were her son was. The only number she'd rather not call ever.

"Mr Wayne?" She knew she sound hysterical, "You don't know where my sons are do you? They never came home and..."

* * *

Oh dear. That isn't good! :)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

(Friday evening)

Bruce felt cold.

It didn't seem to make any difference that Barbara's heating was full blast or that he was wearing his thickest coat. Maybe it was just the small amount of fear that had work its way into his traitorous heart. Maybe it was just the furious cold shoulder Barbara was giving him, unable to believe that a so called brilliant man like him could be so stupid. Bruce resented that statement, he hadn't acted stupidly, he'd taken the note seriously - just got the intended victim wrong. He wasn't perfect...

No- Barbara was right and Bruce wasn't going to let his ego trick him. He had acted like a senile fool and now Terry and Matthew were going too suffered for that. His hands tightened over his cane. No, Terry and Matthew weren't going to suffer, over his dead body was he going to let some small crock hurt his sons...sons... Not just Terry but Matthew too.

Nine year old Matt, who had absolutely nothing to do with any of this, any thing to do with _him_. except being related to him.

Damn he was such an old _fool_.

It had been almost painful to hear the hysterical Mary McGinnis as she tried to find out if Bruce knew where her sons were. He didn't. But he told her to sit still while he did find them. He had almost wished Barbara wasn't there and didn't overhear the conversation. He almost wished she hadn't gone quiet and still before sharply demanding to know what was going on. Bruce didn't need to be the World's Greatest Detective to know where (or when) her eyes wondered too when they glazed over. He too remembered the last time a Batling had gone missing all too well...

No, not again. _Not_ this time.

The silence between them was painful. Anyone else, anyone who wasn't a Bat would have run away in fear – a Bat would have tried to fade into the background until the blood bath was over. Bruce waited.

He didn't wait long.

"You fool. You...you old senile fool!" Barbara didn't move her eyes from the road but she didn't need to, to know Bruce was stiffening up. "How could you? _How could you_? After...after the last time, with Tim...How could you not tell me? How could you not keep an eye on the boy? How could you just...leaving him? Did you _want_ this to happen? Plan it!"

"No I didn't want this!" He tried not to shout back as Barbara's voice rose with every word, her lip trembling. He knew she care for Terry, even if she was too scared to let it show. She cared for all the people who wore the same symbol she once had – and still did. Barbara cared for all her children, even after they were broken... His heart twitched. He grabbed his chest with a gasped and waited for it to fade.

Barbara didn't say anything, although her eyes darted to him before she swallowed her acidic words. For all the figurative heart ache she'd wished on him over the years, it hurt her more to see it so literal.

She took a deep, shaking breath, "Where does the bug stop?"

"Just outside Thomas Wayne Primary School." The irony of that didn't leave him.

Barbara took the next turn and said nothing.

Bruce knew there was so much she wanted to scream at him, more than what she already had and undoubtedly would before the night was done, he didn't blame her. He just wanted to find his boys before something unfixable happened to them. He was going to kill Chang if he was behind this – he destroys that man and everything close to him – his family, his business, even his name. There would be nothing of worth left of that thing when Bruce Wayne was through with him and handed him over Barbara, Max and Mary to have fun with. Arkham was too good for filth like him.

Barbara pulled up outside the empty Thomas Wayne Primary School. The area was completely deserted; no police vehicle had yet arrived, there wasn't a Jokerz or T area for miles and no late evening walkers were about. What was it Terry..."_Can you think of a better way to keep people away" - Terry smirked, "Call it a high school?"_

Technically, Barbara_ should _be calling down the channels and having the area cordoned off right now. Instead she got out the car, took the radar and led the way to the crime scene.

Barbara wasn't bitter enough to think that Bruce would leave this to the police, or even to her. But then, Bruce was sure Barbara wanted to solve this herself and not one of her detectives. Bruce let a subdued Ace out the car. Even Ace was scared of a pissed off Police Commissioner Barbara Ann Gordon, overprotvice Bat-mother.

The alley was short and small but big enough for two people to comfortable walk down it. It also curved slight, preventing a person one either side from seeing to the other end. The buildings were tall at the entrance but Bruce noted that the ones behind were far lower. Someone with training could easily jump down with not much noise or notice.

Barbara gasped slightly and Bruce speed up, Ace at his heels. Terry's bike was dumped in the middle of the alley, his bag and what must have been Matt next to it. Bruce swallowed, so they had been here – moreover, they had been attacked. After all, Terry wouldn't abandon their things unless he had too nor would he stay away or not contact from them...they had been kidnapped. Several trash cars were knocked over and broken, as if something heavy had been thrown into them and there was a patch of something dark, something...red...

Bruce kneeled down, pulling on gloves as he examined it. Ace sniffed the substance and whined, nudging Bruce's hand edgily. Terry's then. Bruce pulled some...specialise equipment he had brought with him and got a sample of the blood to test later. He trusted Ace's judgment but he needed proof. Barbara kneel next to him, her whole body was stiff but the anger seemed to have drained out of her somewhat. She looked defeated.

"Knock out gas. Special order stuff. Expensive too. Kid didn't stand a chance outside the suit." She showed Bruce a sample of some purplish dust. She kept her eyes away from the small puddle in front of them.

"What's that?" She stood up and over the puddle, picking something up. Bruce heaved himself up using his cane; he took the object and turned it over, "Terry's phone." He pushed the buttons and his heart clenched. He gritted his teeth. It was calling his number. Terry had tried to call him... Damn it. How could he not have picked up on that? How could he have not known Terry needed him?

Barbara took it back and slipped it in her bag. Technically that was stealing evidence, but then she was also preserving Terry's secret identity until she could wipe several of the suspicious number off. No one at GPHQ could possibly know whose numbers they were and that would only waste precious time while they chased them down, thinking they were important. They were, just not right now.

"So, Terry and Matt walked down here, Terry pushing his bike. A prep, or several, jumped out, set of some knock out gas and attacked them?"

"Most likely." Bruce walked over the bike which Barbara quickly picked up for him. He punched in the code and opened the secret compartment. The Bat suit faced them, still there. Bruce and Barbara stared at it for a minute before Bruce shoved it into his own bag.

"So it wasn't about him then." Barbara let out a shaking breath. Not that there had been any doubt about it being about Bruce but still... It didn't make it any easier that this had nothing to do with the Dark Knight II. Or so it seemed.

"No." "And we still don't have any idea about what the secret is? It isn't..."

"No. If it was, why kidnap? Blackmail is safer – that's what's happened before."

"But why? What? What on earth do they think they have on you, if not...and why Terry and Matt? They're nothing to Bruce Wayne."

Bruce didn't say anything. He just turned again and headed back to the car so Barbara could call this in. He had a faint idea what this might be – if it had _just_ been Terry, then Batman or his work...but Matt? It was more risky to try two victims than one, so why grab Terry **and** Matt? Unless..._I know you're secret_...it was about Terry _and _Matt's real father.

Bruce doubted it. No one other than Walker and himself knew about Project Batman Beyond. Walker hadn't even let the people working in it know the truth. How on earth could Chang, who had no time to dig up anything, possibly have known? Unless Bruce had underestimated him...

The man shivered as he climbed back into the police car, Barbara following him and reaching for the radio. He _hoped_ he hadn't made a complete mess of this situation and risked his sons' lives. But now...it was time to call in some help of his own.

Family was Family after all, wasn't that what Terry always said?

BbBbBbBbBbBb

(The next day, Saturday, early morning)

Max liked Metropolis.

Sure she, Dana and Chelsea had taken much fun and pleasure in ripping the city and its inhabitants, comparing it to Gotham and mocking finding it wanting – but she did like it. Maybe enough that she wouldn't mind coming back but that honestly she didn't think she could stand to live in for a long period of time. Metropolis, the City of the future, attracted some of greatest minds in the world and yet Max felt the city was wrong. It was full of hope, full of ignorance and blindness to reality. Yes Gotham was full of crime, filth and corruption but it didn't hide that. It was plain to see what it was and masks were transparent to most citizens – claiming ignorance never worked in Gotham, no more that claiming innocence as you dropped the stolen loot would.

Metropolis was clean. Everything was clear and well lit and well made. Everyone smiled and nodded to you as you walked past. People stepped around you or apologise if they bumped you. Max felt like she'd walked into the twilight zone. It...couldn't be real, it was so false! Dana and Chelsea, having spend more time out of Gotham than Max had, were amused with her amazement but agreed that Metro-mites were a weird breed of people.

They had even visited the Metro tower and Max was amazed by it. Sure the over whelming desire to start laughing like deranged Arkham escapee had almost been too much, but the fact that Max and all the other tourist were gaping at the tower while she had a best friend who had 'round the clock access if she wanted a sneak peer beyond the gift shop was funny.

They had gotten in on a tour – rare and spontaneous tours but a tour none the less. It took them to 'interesting places' like the Hall of injustice – where harmless mementos of the leagues battle and villain were displayed (all harmless, since anything the league didn't want stolen was hidden away safely), a visit to a movie on the League and its history – impressing the Gothamite because it had the original Batman in it- as well as clips from various battle. Bruce...was every bit as amazing as Max had ever thought him to be and watching him fight she was strongly reminded of Terry and yet at the same time of somthing so completely removed from the man she knew.

Max was blown away by that, impressed by the sheer power and skill of the leaguers, it threw all her own after-hour adventures with Terry out of the water and made her feel small and insignificant in comparison.

Next there was the famous Hall of Justice where tribute to all fallen hero in and outside of the League were kept. Realistically, they should have stayed with the group like they were (to Metropolis standards) violently warned too (but by Gotham standards didn't really meant anything at all). The guide had the eyes of a hawk but a born and breed Gothamite was hard to keep an eye on, especially when they resemble awe stuck teenage girls.

After that is was almost scared how easy they got away. The group only did a generally tour of the Hall, the girls decided they wanted it to be a little more in-depth and started to look for a Batman tribute of some sort. Call it Home town pride – Metropolis certainly did when it flaunted Big-S around.

It took them awhile, in fact longer than Max or Dana were comfortable with – they were sure that they were going to get in deep trouble if the guide left the Halls and noticed they were gone. But Chelsea's enthusiasm paid off and they did find a tribute to Batman, only it wasn't just him. It was the Founding members of the original Justice league.

It was awe-inspiring above and beyond everything else in the Metro-tower. The serious, dedicated faces of the Big Seven – from the powerful Kryptonian in the middle, to the beautiful Amazon on his left and the fear striking Dark Knight on his right, to the youthful speedster and the foreign Martian further right, to the winged Thanagarian and the solemn intergalactic police officer on the left.

The Justice League. Originals.

"That is so _Schway_, that..."

Max and Dana dumbly nodded, mouths open.

"I wonder if this Bats and our Bats are related – I mean is this like his dad or something?"

Max started to laugh. She really shouldn't have but it started with a snort and dissolved in to loud guffaws of amusement. It was the whole secret identity irony – this was just too much for her, the last straw.

It was just so weird – to Dana and Chelsea it was some strange mysterious guy that wasn't entirely real to them, to Max it was just her best friend in suit and his obsessive, gruff boss, who's bark was far worse that his bit. So she laughed, because wasn't it like yesterday Mairyn wondered if Bruce was Terry's dad, and now today Chelsea was thinking that same think without realising it?

Dana and Chelsea sent her weird looks and she bent over, grabbing her knees, shaking so hard. Tears ran down her face. The other girls just shrugged, use too crazy.

"For God sake, Max, it wasn't that funny. You're going to get us caught and into trouble." Chelsea frowned.

Dana pulled a face at Max as she slid to the floor shaking- "I think we're going to get into trouble anyway – I have no idea where the rest of the group is, they're bound to have noticed we're missing by now." "Maybe they'll call the League." "Probable not, unless they think we're like evil villains going to blow it up or something." "_Now _that would be cool!"

Dana laughed, "Your mum totally wouldn't agree." Chelsea shrugged, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "Yeah, but she'd just bitch to Dad and he's used to me doing this sort of thing."

They both turned back to Max, now curled up in a small shuddering ball, giving her an even weirder looks.

"Think we should just leave her behind? I mean, I think she might have wet herself."

"Yeah I think so too." But they moved over and taped the crying girl on the shoulder, "Max, we're going to look for the rest of the group – you coming? Or you still 'busy'."

Max shook her head as she giggled away, "No- I'm (snort) fine. Wait -my phone's going off, gimmi a minute."

Biting her lip, she gingerly sat up, fishing around her pocket for her phone. She checked the ID–"Actually you guys better go on, I'll catch up in a minute. (giggle) Just say we were looking for a bath room (giggle) and got lost, you have no clue where I am. I think up something later (snort)."

Not looking convinced, the two reluctantly go up and left. After all, Max was the mostly like of the three to stay out of trouble.

Max hit the answer button, "Sup Wayne." She giggled furiously. She honestly should stop before Wayne hung up insulted. The man didn't have a funny bone in his body. And then she'd never know why _he_ was calling _her_.

"Maxine?" She shouldn't take pride in the unsettled tone of his voice, but really, she did. She forced another round of giggles down and tried to keep her voice straight.

"Don't worry, I'm fine. How are you?" Don't snort, don't snort. Do. Not. Laugh. At. Bruce. Freaking. Wayne.

"...are you drunk?" – Too late.

"Mwuahahahahahahahahhaha – hahaha – No! – hahahahah." She was sure he was totally convinced but she was just sorry she couldn't cry anymore. Terry was so going to hear about this conversation – if fact, she'd sell it for a fortune on the hero-black-market.

"Maxine, pull yourself together. This is serious!" The man barked down the phone. Max gasped some sobering air down, reminding herself forcibly about what Bruce would do to her if she was in Gotham. And that that image was _far_ from _funny._

"Sorry! I- I- I'm okay now, really. What up?" She braced herself.

"Have you seen the news?"

"No, not yet why..." "Terry's been kidnapped." – And totally wasn't expecting that. She was really glad she was already on the ground 'cus she was starting to feel dizzy.

"Kidnapped? What do you-"

"Someone grabbed him and Matthew outside of his school, yesterday. We haven't found any evidence yet – we...need you here. Mrs McGinnis is distraught." Max didn't doubt _they (and not she) _needed her – in fact she was fairly sure who _they _were currently including, a grumpy old millionaire, a bitter police Commissioner and a killer-bat-dog. No wonder they needed her.

"But...how?"

"Pull yourself together. You needed to leave Metropolis soon. You want in? You're in – at least until we find Terry." Why was she hearing an 'if' in there – _there shouldn't be an 'if' there! Bruce had to find him!_

"But..._how_?"

"Maxine, I don't have time-" his voice was impatient and annoyed – but then Max blow up.

"-Bruce Wayne don't you dare talk to me like that! How could Terry be hurt? How? If Batman...if that was involved then why did we have to leave? You said he was after us, not Terry."

She paused and then growled down the phone, "What do you meant you were wrong? If anything happened to him, I swear...I swear I'll shove that stupid – stupid cane of yours...(sob)"

Max tried to swallow the fear tugging at her but she couldn't. It was like everything she had feared was happening. She had known Batman could get Terry hurt, she'd just never imagined Terry McGinnis could either. Or Matt. She should have stayed behind; she should never have let him on his own. He _needed_ her. He...and she wasn't there. What kind of partner was she?

"Max," The voice was softer, gentler than she was use too and for a minute she could pretend that it was Terry's voice. It was surprising how similar the two were at times, in fact it was shocking just how alike Terry and Bruce were in just about everything.

He wasn't Terry though but still... she really wished she could hear Terry's soft lullaby-voice right now, the one that made everything feel alright even when is obviously wasn't.

"Max, please. I know you're scared and upset. But you're not helpless and you're not to blame." It seemed impossible that it was Bruce Wayne, but the understanding was very much him. Spot on.

"Of course it is. Terry thought it was me or else he'd have been on his guard. And if I had been there, I..." she couldn't find the words to say, 'I'd have been there for him, damn whatever you say. I would have made a difference' because honestly, would Bruce believe them?

"You would have what?" the gentle voice prodded, "I know what you're thinking, I've been there. There's nothing that you could have done then, and there's nothing that can be done about that now." Of course _Batman_ would know all about that..."Don't torture yourself, torture them. Help us find him, find Terry and then we'll show them they picked the wrong person." That was such a very Batman thing to say, 'don't get mad, get even – or doesn't get sad, hunt down the criminal, beat them up and hand them over to the police to suffer.'

Max nodded despite knowing that Bruce couldn't see her. "I'll be on the first train home, I see you at the manor." Bruce hung up and Max bowed her head.

What was she going to do? What could see do? - _Show them why you don't touch a Bat and live, _whispered a familiar voice in her head, the part of her personality she always called Bat – the side that made her fit so neatly into the her best friend's adopted dysfunctional family. Like the missing jigsaw piece.

Max stared down at her phone. Something seemed to swirl around inside her, twisting, contrasting and struggling to find its way out, over boiling. It needed out, rattling against her rib cage, screeching for freedom, for the hunt. She wanted out, but more than ever she wanted in. She wanted to be _in._

"What do I do?" She whispered, tears burning her eyes.

"Everything you can." A warm hand patted her shoulder. She jumped and nearly broke her neck turning around.

Superman.

Sup_erman_. Super..._! _Holy Cows...

She blushed and muttered, _something,_ under her breath as he pulled her to her feet. The older man ran a worried eye over her before relaxing. "I was sent to find you after the group lost you. I guessed where you and your friends would be after I heard the word 'Gotham,'." The wiry grin faded. "What's happened, Miss Gibson?"

"How do you know my name?" She demanded, instinctively crossing her arms and sinking into 'annoyed Max-mode' which traditional got both Terry and Bruce to clue her in. Superman smiled.

"I was a reporter once, and I keep an eye on my friends, Miss Gibson. Natural I heard quite a lot about you."

"...Call me Max, everyone does." She wiped a tear of her cheek.

"Then you must call me Kal, Max. Now..."

"Terry's missing." She blurted out and then wondered if Kal even knew who Terry really was. But if he knew who she was and he had to know who Bruce really was... The man's face darkened and any playful gentility left faster than the proverbial speeding bullet.

"How?" One word, but the power that radiated from the man, reminded her of just who she was talking too.

"We don't know. Wen-shen Chang is the main suspect though. That why I'm here, Bruce and Terry...Terry were worried he was going after me and Dana." I will not cry. I will not cry.

The man, or well Superman, nodded absently, his hard eyes distant as he remembered something – or perhaps _someone._ "I think I would be best if you followed orders and returned home, Max. Gotham's going to need you very soon. I'll show you the way out but_, please_, call if you need _anything_." "You may need to remind Bruce he isn't as along in the world he likes to act... but then," he glanced down at her, "If he's got you, maybe he doesn't need to be reminded."

Max nodded, understanding the subtle compliment and appreciated it. Instead of replying, no longer trusting her voice, she just followed him further into the statues and tributes to the fallen, and prayed to any god listening that Terry wasn't about to join them just yet.

* * *

Hahahaha, Max is a riot and Bruce is a little depressing but - what do you think?


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

(Same day, Saturday, Early Morning)

Mairyn's morning had been a fairly nice one, and in fact her evening yesterday hadn't been bad either.

Her father, busy with work, had handed her some money and told her to go shopping or to the movies or something, just to be out of the house until late. Mairyn hadn't argued, instead she took the money and left. She called Terry and Max but neither had answered so she went shopping instead – there was something innately wrong about going to the cinema on your own. She now owned several nice new outfits at her father's expense.

And her morning had been good, she slept in and her father wasn't to be seen anywhere. All in all it had looked like a great day... until she turned on the TV.

"-Police are still declining to make a statement in regards to the disappearances of high schoolers, Terrance McGinnis and his younger brother Matthew McGinnis. The two were last seen outside of Thomas Wayne Primary School around four o'clock – Police are appealing for anyone who might have witnessed anything in the area to step forward. On a similar note, billionaire Bruce Wayne, young Terrance McGinnis's employer, is offering a substantial reward to anyone who can locate the two teenagers safely or provide information for the search. However, he declined to comment."

"Wow, John, I guess the McGinnis family just doesn't have much luck – Terrance and Matthew are the two sons of Warren McGinnis, a brilliant scientist who was brutally murdered by Jokerz in his own home a little over a year ago. Our condolences go out to Mrs Mary McGinnis, who –"  
CRASH!

No.

No! NO, NO, NO! – Mairyn slipped down to the floor, her knees going weak. Why him? Why did it have to be him? Terry was a good person, bad things weren't meant to happen to good people. 'This is my entire fault.' She realised as she stared at the broken bowl on the floor – its shattered china reflecting a pale, unfamiliar face. This was her fault.

"I told him and now he's acted on it and now Terry's in trouble. Oh my God, what have I done? And that little boy, Matt, I got him caught up in the middle of this as well. He's only a kid." Mairyn didn't care about tears rolled down her face, ruining her makeup. If she hadn't told him, her father would never have done this – what had she become? Was she some stupid hit girl who didn't care if someone she knew was dead as long as the money kept coming? As long as the nice hotel, fancy food and expensive clothes kept coming?

She felt disgusting. Her mother would have been ashamed to see her reduced to an accessory to murder, blackmail and kidnapping.

"What have I done?" She thought as she stared into the pictures on the TV, the noise not meaning anything to her. What have I done?

She remembered a time when her mother taught her the rule of living. It was every person's duty in the world to protect and nurture life and those who broke the most sacred of rules had to be punished. She remembered everything her mother had taught her to protect herself and those who surrounded her. She had believed that a clean soul meant more than bloodied hands – the means always justified the ends.

I have to do something, I have to help them. Mairyn knew that when she saw the picture of that little black haired boy and his smirking older brother. When she remembered everything she had ever read, or been told about them. Whenever she had read about Bruce Wayne, and realised who he really was. When she realise that Terry McGinnis was a very good person in a very bad city.

I will help them, mother, I promise I'll save them.

Because that's was the right thing to do and Mairyn was sick of not doing the right thing.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Dick Grayson could never really be called an old man. Sure, he had long since passed the age where one could be called mature and was venturing deeply into the traitorous terrain of old age. He just didn't look it. At all.

His face was faintly lined (only faintly) and was still smooth and creamy – his hair had a few streaks of silver but that only highlighted its dark lengths. He was still in shape and his thin build took years off him. Anything age had given him only made him look like a mature man with a younger spirit, as time hadn't faded his mischievous blue eyes. All of this he took great pride in – except when it attracted girls almost young enough to be his daughters – or heaven forbid, granddaughters.

Girls like a certain Maxine Gibson.

Of course Dick had liked her the minute they had met – sort of. Watching a teenage girl rip into an elderly Batman and get away with it, now _that_ was a quickly way to gain friends and admirers. There was something about the pink-haired girl's temper and her wit that made Dick smile like he hadn't in years. Her snide comment about Bruce banishing her off with Dick (to 'check out the crime scene again') was the icing on the cake. But after the girl had got past her sulking outrage, she had really got a good look at the man she was sniping at and fallen in love. Dick wondered why this always happened to him.

"Where have you been? I-I mean, I haven't seen you around G-Gotham much – at all really." She blushed, a rather nice shade on her, Dick couldn't help but think. Translation – Why haven't I meet Nightwing during my time as Bat-support and why haven't I seen you around Wayne Manor and its resident gargoyle?

Dick grinned, "I live in Bludhaven, been working there for the last few years – well, decades, really. I retired from cape and cowl about twelve years ago – injury to the leg, fine for police work, bad for vigilante work."

He took a turn off the main carriage way into the city. "I'm an advisor to Major Crimes now, keeping it as clear as I can on the inside – suppose I should ask Barb for advice now and then, and I'll get a little more free time to spend with the Family." He glanced at her out the side of his eye but Maxine wasn't looking at him. She was watching the other hover cars and seemed to be pondering his words. Yes, Dick was certainly going to get to know his newest sibling, cape or not – and new Bat of course.

"You and Terry are close? I mean, Bruce called you first – well after Barb, who called Tim and Steph and who then called me and bitched my ear off because that's what the Blonde She-Robin's good at. But Bruce...called you." He didn't look at her this time but he was seriously tempted to – he wanted to know how well Max knew Bruce and how the hell the teenage girl had warranted such a close place in Bruce's confidence.

He didn't know why he bothered with conversation, as great a talker as Max had proven herself to be, at the moment she was reduced to blushing and mumbling. Which sucked, because she was currently his only way of finding out more about the mysterious Terry McGinnis, who'd worked his way into Dick's rather dysfunctional family.

"You could say that."

"Well, you must be, if you...well, you _know_." Max dropped the schoolgirl act for a minute and sent him a look. One that clear said, 'what-the-hell-did-you-just...?' It was Dick's turn to blush.

"You know how wrong that sounds, of course? Nay, me and Terry, he's like my annoying twin. I do his homework while he regurgitates tales of his wars and I listen in class while he sleeps said wars off." She muttered sarcastically. He laughed; sure, he hadn't found someone this amusing to sit in a car with since...hmmm ,before Roy and Wally became fathers.

"If I made it sound like you're sleeping together, then you just make him into a druggie." Max rolled her eyes, blushed the colour of her startling hair before pointing out he needed the next turn. "You're not, are you? I mean, I know Terry got a girl-"

"Oh, God, no. Terry's dating Dana Tan - ermm, well, some days he's dating her at least. Sort of depends on whether she's pissed off at him or not. He can't exactly turn around and admit he ditched her because Inque was trying to kill someone again. That's just...Terry, I suppose." She shrugged.

"Really?"

"No. Seriously though, Terry's amazing. I've never met anyone who can be so focused and ...driven about something. It's annoying but I do understand him. I mean, he really cares about Gotham, about keeping everyone safe and... I like that about him." Max drifted off and a sad expression flitted across her face.

Checking he wasn't about to crash the car, Dick took his eyes off the road and patted her hand. He knew how hard it could be to sit back and feel helpless when someone you love was missing and, for all you knew, suffering. He wasn't sure if his fears over Tim's disappearance could possibly match Max's – after all, Dick had had no idea what to think at the time. Max had more than a few nightmares to cry over.

"He'll be fine, Max. We'll find him, them, I promise."

Max gave a shacking laugh and rubbed her eyes. "That's what scares me. Will we find him? We have no real clue who kidnapped them, or why, or what their planning to do to them. I...I'm scared about what going to happen to him – to both of them."

"Mattie's just a little kid; he doesn't deserve to get hurt over us. Not us." She whispered, tears breaking through.

Making a quick decision (and noticing that Max was starting to lose it after the adrenaline finally got out of her system) Dick pulled off the road and into a small alley way. He undid his seat belt and did something Bruce and Barbs would never do.

He pulled the distraught girl into a hug.

After all, as dysfunctional as his family might be, Dick couldn't help but feel he had something to make up to the little brother and sister he didn't know.

"You know something, Max?" he whispered into the girl's ear, "When freaks go after little kids, they tend to end up with broken bones, this time...we'll just have to hit back a little harder."

"Only after I'm done with them." The black girl growled, eyes flashing darkly.

The ex-Nightwing only smiled, happy that the newest in the line of Robin was every bit as protective and, perhaps, dangerous as Barbara had once been. It was nice to know the next mother of the Bat-Family was going to be able to hold their weight perfectly fine.

BbBbBbBb

(Saturday, day after the kidnapping)

For the last few hours Terry had been lying on the freezing floor, with his arms painfully wrenched behind his back.

Most of those hours have been divided between watching his captors, keeping a steady eye on the sleeping Matt and trying to figure how to get the hell out of here. The first hour or so had been spent trying and failing to wiggle out of his restraints (wiggle being a good word because he had been abandoned on his back with his hands under him) and even when he found a little purchase he couldn't use it.

Because as he found out within seconds of waking up – his leg was broken and swollen up. He couldn't even sit up without feeling faint in agony and it took every bit of pride he possessed not to scream when it was nudged.

He didn't even remember how it had happened and he was rather concerned that he was having difficulty recalling clearly what had happened – his memories were fragments, distorted and jumping. The last thing he needed was a head injury _here_.

The room he had been _dumped_ in was a cornered of area of a larger, somewhat ruined, room. Bars, thick and strong, were welded into the walls creating a perfectly square cell in the corner. Obviously it had once been a smugglers' den from the lack of windows and had 'special' built-in features isolating the cell. It was a villains' dream hideout, all in all– and Terry supposed the neighbourhood was to criminals' liking too – there wasn't a soul around.

Terry had already guessed that the ones who were holding them captive weren't amateurs even if they weren't League of Assassins quality. Their manner of execution was perfect and the equipment cost serious dough. Someone was paying big money to get them here and hopefully to keep them here. Because if they didn't want them alive, Terry knew he'd already be dead.

Terry, having given up his first plan to loosen the metal restraints, grab Matt and bolt, tried to get a hold of his belt to seen out a emergence signal. When he, finally, did it was only to be disappointed. No signal, no one bit. Sighing, Terry closed his eyes and dropped his head back. This was great, just brilliant.

It didn't take him any time to work out where he was to his overwhelming dread. In all of Gotham, there was only one area where technology was so very much as dead as the grave. Unfortunately this area included the whole of Gotham.

Gotham's Underworld. Literally. A few decades after an earth quake devastated Gotham, a new area 'popped' up. Whole buildings and streets had been submerged in the Quake and City Officials had just paved over it all, so unsurprisingly the darker elements had used this to their advantage. Some of these areas were perfectly inhabitable and completely undetectable due to the utter mess Gotham was down low.

But for Terry this was bad. He could be anywhere from right beneath a warehouse floor to miles and miles under solid rock and he had no way to tell the difference. Even if he and Matt got out, there was a high chance they'd die just trying to find a way to the surface.

'Damn, Bruce, I hope you're doing something on your side, things ain't looking too bright down here.' Terry thought despairingly as Matt started to stir.

Unlike him, the boy wasn't tied up so thoroughly. His hands were bound in front of him with rope and Terry knew that that was unfortunately going to be enough to stop him – if that barred cage didn't. Terry tried to split his vision, wanting to see if the captors who had been ignoring them up until now noticed them, and his desire to make sure his baby brother was safe. The men continued to mutter to one another, too low for him to make out at all.

"T...Terry?" The whimper decided it.

"Matt, are you ok? You're not hurt?" Terry whispered as Matt crawled closer to him, warily eyeing the kidnappers. He looked fine but Terry couldn't tell beneath his clothes if anything was hurt or broken.

"Y-yeah. You ok? Where are we? Who are they?" The boy sniffed but didn't break down. Of course he wouldn't - as terrifying as being attacked and kidnapped was, Matthew was a Gothamite born and bred and had seen some of the darker shades Gotham had to offer even at his young age. He wasn't afraid. Not when his brother was there to look after him. Terry wasn't going to let anything hurt him and Terry was tough.

"Gangsters – hired crooks. Probably do this all the time." Then Terry saw the wide eyed look spreading across Matt face and changed tactics quickly, "T-That's good. That means they just want something and they're not going to hurt us. Pros tend to look after their – umm, 'guests', better than others."

It was a lie and a blatant one too. Just the thought of being let go made Terry's stomach snake in fear – not for himself, God, at this moment his own safety was further down his list of priorities, everything was. He just wanted to make sure Mattie was safe. That was all that was important here.

Matt relaxed unconsciously, lying down until he was parallel to his brother. "Really? Stalker was nicer, even if the cage was really really _really _small. Are you ok?" Terry nodded slightly as his arms spasmed. Message was clear –'stop lying, it's a sin remember? This pains only going to get worse until you get off your butt and get out.'

The doors creaked open. The two boys stiffened, Terry struggled to try and do _something_. One of the kidnappers watched with an amused expression on his face, his dark eyes gleaming sardonically. He was dark and his hair close shaved but he was young, only a year or two older that Terry at the least. Like the others he wore a black suit that was clear his 'work' clothes as the adjustments and attachments added on were for a somewhat more... obscure purpose that most chain store held stock for.

Snorting at his captives, the man-in-black stepped into the cage, closed the door and pulled out a knife. Terry stiffened and immediately ran through everything Bruce had taught him the might be of use in this situation. The man closed the small space and grabbed Matt, dragging him to his feet. The boy whimpered and inched away.

Terry had never feel more helpless, not even when his father was murdered or when Bruce was risking his life to save him from Inque. He did not like this feeling one bit.

"Let him go!" he snarled the best he could, given that he resembled a turtle right now. The Bat-glare however was perfect. The man laughed and cut the ropes hold on Matt's hands before roughly nudging the boy, knocking him to the floor. Terry almost sighed and reminded himself that losing control of his temper – or his tongue- wasn't going to keep Matt safe. He was going to have to keep quiet until he knew who he was dealing with.

The man grabbed Terry and pulled him to his feet – and then caught him when Terry gasped and toppled to the floor in pain. "Can your leg hold any weight at all?" he grunted, his slight Hispanic accent noticeable.

Terry shook his head biting down on his lips to not let any signs of weakness out - lights burned into his retinas and his body screamed abuse at him. The man cursed and shouted something behind him, Terry was too lightheaded to make notice of it. The others shouted back and Terry realised they were talking in a foreign language, Spanish – one language Bruce _hadn't_ driven through his skull assuming Terry would already know some.

"Come with me." The man almost threw Terry forwards towards the door, ignoring the fact Terry was, to his shame, leaning entirely on the man to lessen the pain in his leg. Terry cried out as he fell to the floor, his leg burning as it gave way under his again. Matt screamed from his place on the floor. The man sighed and leant over to pick him up when Terry's good leg shot out and landed on his kneecap.

"Don't fucking do that, dreg!" Terry shouted at him, his eyes swimming with dark rage, fuelled with agony. So much for not losing his temper or his tongue but that son of a bitch deserved it.

The man screamed as a crack broke the air, doubling over clutching his leg and Terry realised maybe that wasn't the best thing to do.

The other men jumped to their feet, shocked and thrown by the sight of their friend. A man in a white coat who Terry took to be the brains and two thugs-in-black stormed over, malice in their eyes as they opened the cage door. The man was screaming on the floor clutching his leg. The two massive, apelike men roughly dragged Terry onto his knees – because there was no way in God's name he was getting to his feet – and looked at the other, older man, who stepped over Terry. Terry tried to look at Matt, who was hurled away from the men in a corner, sending the boy a look that clear said, 'stay where you are – don't get near them, no matter what'. The far older man, whose face was lines, hair of silver but with bright sky-blue eyes, crouched over the man-in-black, being very careful not to touch him for some reason.

"Not broken. Just dislocated – instinctive, most likely, on the side of this young gentleman." The other man, who Terry realised was a doctor of some sort, narrowed his eyes at Terry before nodding to the other men.

"I don't imagine our guests are very happy with their accommodations – or their _treatment_. I'm sure these fine guests are used to far more than this sort of maltreatment from their hosts." The Doctor looked disdainfully down at the younger man, curled up clutching his knee. "Bring the boy, leave Jeff – he'll survive on his own for now, while I deal with Mr McGinnis here. Joe – look after the kid. I'll be in the office."

The Doctor straightened up and the two men holding Terry, who, carefully, helped him to his feet and all but carried him between them out the cell. Terry couldn't do much to stop them as his aching arms were still behind his back and his feet were suspended above the ground. He tried to crane his neck to see Matt but the men's grips were too tight.

The Doctor left Jeff crying on the floor with three other men, one most likely leaving Joe with a terrified Matt and exited the large room. Terry was pulled through a dank hall to a small office-like room which had a dentist chair dominating the middle and which resembled a hybrid of a dentistry and an examination room. Equipment and cabinets of steel were stationed around the room and Terry's stomach flipped sickly. He didn't care how bad his leg was, or that there was a very likely chance of it becoming infected and useless or that if left untreated he might lose it – he sure as hell didn't want this 'Doctor' laying a hand on him. The Doctor started to rummage through the drawers of one of the cabinets on a side wall.

The two men untied Terry's arms and forced him into the chair, although he didn't put up as much resistance as he would have liked to, and tied him down.

That did nothing to improve Terry's good warm feelings about this. The straps were metallic manacles and tightly fitted– Terry made himself think of anything but why this chair might need such heavy duty restraints. Instead he entertained his mind with impossible ideas of how he could bring the two men, who were twice his weight and height, down, and knock the Doctor out before they could make a sound. He could have done this easily, even without the Batsuit– if his leg wasn't about to fall off and he wasn't suffering from possible blood loss and/concussion. Damn it...

"I suppose this must be very confusing for you, Mr McGinnis," the Doctor said lightly, gesturing to the two kidnappers to move next to the door.

He carefully placed something down on a counter and turned to face Terry, leaning on the counter with his hand resting over the object. "I often find most of my 'patients' don't really understand why they're enjoying my wonderful company. I suppose it's not really my business to going nosing around _their _business or their loved ones, the reasons why they're here. I meant to just do what I'm told too and what my big payoff is for. But then," he laughed softly, sending shivers down Terry's spine at the darkness, "I don't really do what I ought to do. After all, if I did, I'd still be a Doctor in a posh hospital, now, wouldn't I?" He smiled gently and Terry knew he was in the presence of a true sociopath.

A man whose presence screamed 'run or die!', when smiling like a Girl Guide master at a bake sale was truly something to be wary of. He also seemed to like the sound of his voice and revelled in his own superiority to the trained thugs he surrounded himself with. God, this seemed uncomfortably familiar.

"Well, I find most of my patients have really quite interesting stories to tell – except they're a bit 'uncomfortable' talking to me about it. I like to hear stories, Mr. McGinnis; moreover, I enjoy hearing secrets." The Doctor leant close, "Call it a bad habit."

He whispered in Terry's ear, "Do you have any secrets, Mr. McGinnis?" His breath, caressing Terry's cheek, sent alarmed shivers down the teen's body.

Terry turned his head away, "Get the hell away from me, freak! What kind of pervert are you?" He snarled. So much for playing it neutral and safe. But, then, this man took lessons from the Joker in freaking people out...

The Doctor's eyes darkened slightly and the coldness radiated before the mask of politeness slipped over it again. His lips twitched, threatening to turn from a smile to a sardonic sneer. "Do you know my name, Mister McGinnis? I fear that in my rush to get to know you I might have overstepped some of the silly formalities of new acquaintances – and of course while I know a great deal of you, _Terrance, _perhaps, you know nothing of me."

"I am Doctor Xavier – but call me as I'm better known, Witch Doctor, please. My speciality is in secrets but of course, being a doctor, I have 'patient confidentiality'." Amusement was in his eyes, "I have had my eye on you for a while Mr McGinnis. What secret must have been entrusted in your hands? What tidy pearls of human nature are you keeping hidden away? Care to share?"

"You're crazy. A complete nut – what you do want with me and my brother? Why did you kidnap us? What are you planning? Did _Chang_ pay you?"

The Witch Doctor's face was genuinely confused, puzzlement clouding his feature until it cleared suddenly. "Of course," he muttered, "must be the blood loss kicking in..."

The man's hawking eyes focused on Terry again, "I don't know why anyone would be after you and your brother, Mr, McGinnis, I could guess if you like – although I'm sure I am going to enjoy the story behind you paranoia! – No. You're here in my humble abode to answer a few questions, maybe tell a tale or two and then...then you may leave. You brother is here only for your co-operation, I find loved ones tend to make patients more... sensible in their choices." The familiar laughter hadn't left the man's eyes and Terry had the horrible feeling he was missing a big part of the puzzle – but no amount of blood loss was going to make him believe in the Witch Doctor.

"If you're going to let us go anyway then let Matt go now and I'll tell you anything you want, after I know he's safe."  
"Safe? My dear sir, what do you take me for? A common brute? I give you my word as a gentleman (and I'm sure your father has taught you than the word of a man our class can be taken to the bank) that you brother will not suffer an ounce of pain after while he's still in my care – you, I'm afraid, I cannot give my word in the same regard. Your injuries are too severe for me to prevent from hurting you more in an attempt to help you – just remember, Mr. _McGinnis_," The man grinned, "confession lightens the load of mortal sinners and frees the soul to embrace the relief of God."

The Doctor rested his hand on Terry's face and tightened it when the teen tried to jerk away. Terry tried to shout but the Doctor's hand was clamping his jaw shut and firmly in place, bruising the skin. The Doctor lifted his other hand and for the first time Terry caught sight of the filled needle in his hand.

Panicking Terry tried to force his way out of the Doctor's grip, cursing himself for letting his guard down while the psycho lectured like an old English gentleman. The man, with surprising strength, held firm as he plunged the needle into Terry's exposed neck and pumped the drug in his system. Terry's body spasmed as he fought against the cold invasion, he could feel it running through his veins...

"Relax dear, boy." The Doctor's laughing body blurred slightly as Terry struggled to focus on him. "- just a sedative so I can fix your leg and then," the Doctor's mocking laugh twisted in Terry's ears, becoming higher and shrilled. "-we'll have a nice talk about your lifestyle...I mean, my homemade remedies help to loosen the tongue...Doctor Jonathan Crane, good man, brilliant Doctor – his work...based off him..." The words splintered and fade in and out, incoherently. Nothing made much sense as he fought back the drug...nothing worked. Nothing Bruce had ever taught him...

Terry shivered as everything went cold, he twisted and struggled against the metal restraints but, god, they wouldn't move!

He felt something wet run down his wrists as his vision started to go. He heard, vaguely, the doctor scold him but he was distracting by the dominating sounds the shrieking laugher and a whimpering 'no, no, nononononononno!"

"No what, dear boy?" cooed a giggling, shrill voice in his ear, cold finger touching his skin. Dead fingers. Blood fingers. Terry arched away, fear coursing through him...no...

"He's no alive, he's no alive, he- MATT! No, he's DEAD! Don't let him near...Matt..." Terry heard someone scream terrified, at the Doctor and then, disconcertingly, realised it was himself. He started to fight back but hysteric laugher over powered his denials. The mocking laughter of a man who just would die but instead continued to return to torture his victims again and again.

Terry didn't feel the doctor try to stem the blood flowing from his wrists or hear the man curse venomously when one of the restraints burst under Terry's hysteria.

Terry didn't see the two silent guards lean back, eyes wide in complete shock or see the Doctor get knocked to the ground. Nightmarish visions took over completely, striping back reality and fantasy like a raw onion.

Terry didn't feel the overwhelming agony from his leg as he jerked it about or the bruising force as the two bulky men tried to keep him in the chair.

Terry only saw the twisted pale face of a monster and victim blurred into one nightmare.

Terry only felt the relentless pain of the thing's punches and shocking jokes, the fire and ice.

Terry only heard the creature's sharp digging sneers. The whispers, the cackles – taunts, glee filled and bloody.

His shoulder explored into freezing pain as it was ripped open and a liquid – Drugs. Silvia. Poison. Terry's hurting mind couldn't tell the reality from the fear – as the waves crashed into it. All he heard was the sardonic laughter of a sick clown before white hands dragged him down into a black nightmare he couldn't escape and away from the land of the living and sane.

His screams ringed loudly in everyone ears long after they were silenced.

* * *

What can I say? Reveiws please?


	7. Chapter 7

THANKS CampionSayn for Betaing, your are nothing short of amazing.

* * *

Chapter Seven

(Saturday night, The Captio Building)

The nights started to get colder as winter approached.

In the high, well lit streets and skywalks of Gotham, well-to-do men and women were quick in step between their cars and their destinations. It was too cold for leisurely strolls and too dark to offer any view of her nightly beauty. In the lower streets and lesser levels of Gotham, less well-to-do men and women still scurried from destination to destination; cold weather wasn't a good enough excuse to put off their plans. And besides, colder nights brought fewer dangers, at least for a while – Jokerz and T's, for all their power and attitude, were still human and like everyone else didn't want to spend more time in the cold than they strictly had too.

Tonight the streets were all but abandoned as it was only with the most urgent of reasons citizens put their foot outside their doorsteps. The temperatures, in both upper and lower Gotham, had plummeted downwards all day and it was close to freezing – frost bit hungrily at any exposed skin and stole into unsuspecting lungs to make people cough bitterly. People hunched over from the penetrating chill and walked quickly with the pointed winds at their backs.

Surprisingly there was one young women out that didn't care for the weather at all. In fact, the hostility that seemed to be projected by Gotham that night suited her just fine – perhaps Gotham was sulking over her absent lover, her darling Dark Knight who, like the other, had abandoned her temporarily. The idea, the image of the darkly seductive Gotham as a jilted, possessive lover flickered across her eyes and made her snort into her mask. That in turn sent a burst of shocking air into her lung and made her gasp. Apparently, Gotham didn't like one of her children to mock her and her love.

_'He'll be back soon. Men always come back in the end, not matter what kind of trouble they find themselves in,_' she thought confidently, both to herself and to Gotham. The winds let up a little at that moment, enough for her to swing herself up a few levels – she took this as Gotham being reassured by her faith.

Perched, bird like on a narrow window ledge, the masked women pulled out her pocket computer and consulted it. If her information was right (and it bloody well **was** because she was never wrong) then her target was... three windows over and six stories up. Brilliant.

Instinctively the woman turned around and craned her neck to check – Not so brilliant. She let loose a few curse words which were thankfully snatched away by the returning winds. Somehow she felt like a scolded child – was Gotham about to wash her mouth out too? - Oh no, she hoped not, rain was not something she wanted tonight of all nights.

Shivering, the woman moved back, so that her back was flat against the black, icy glass. The same smooth, unbroken surface that extended four stories up.

The woman sighed as she reached into one of her utility compartments. The suit she was wearing wasn't...normal. A full length cat suit, colored in silver that absorbed light instead of reflecting it, splattered with a white star like shape across her chest. She had a white utility belt and across her chest, upper arm and leg she had attached additional metal bands to hold the specialist gear she was carrying tonight. Her mask–like-helmet was shaped like a full face mask but made of what seemed to be white bandages – the same pattern on her gloves and boots.

Despite what one might think while looking at her, she was more than aware that her suit wasn't anywhere near finished. The design was finished but the details weren't. She had claws in her gloves and friction boots for climbing and a whip, but her jet boots had to be put on hold. Her mask wasn't completely finished, she hadn't had time to connect the internal computer and only enough to tweak the lens. She hadn't even_ tested_ the material to see if it would work. Half her equipment she was running on blind faith and unproven theories.

But tonight couldn't be put off any longer. Tonight she had to kick start her plans a little earlier than she had originally hoped for. She prayed she didn't get caught because of it. _He'd _kill her if he caught her in this outfit. But this was a matter of life and death, she needed to help him. She had to.

Sighing painfully, she twisted a dial on her costume and felt her creation flair to life under her fingertips. All things going well, her pet project should work and work well. She turned to face the glass and after a short prayer that this was going to work, started to climb.

The problem with four stories of clear glass _wasn't _finding hand and foot holes, it _wasn't_ the fear that she might fall _nor_ was it the fear that she might trip an alarm. She was confident enough in her skills that they _weren't _a problem. The problem was the fact than more than a few of the offices between her and her target were occupied and normally the sight of a young women scaling past your window tended to spook people.

And she didn't want to spook her targets – yet.

The winds tugged at her on her way up. More than once she had to stop and hold her breath as she was pushed from side to side, eyes firmly fixed on the ignorant workers. No one stirred and when the winds calmed she continued, clambering with the grace of a monkey. It was as if she was invisible to the occupants of the offices - but in reality, the cloth she had chosen for her costume, which certainly hadn't been for its weak defensive structures or its fashion statement, was because, treated in the right chemical and with the right stimuli, could cause its wearer to become if not invisible then unnoticeable to the naked eye. With this little nugget of gold, she was able to bypass the most basic of security as long as she kept an eye out for cameras.

By the time she got to the window – which thankfully was on a floor that had ledges- she was serious starting to consider following Batman's example and getting a hover car.

And things considered, she could probably build her own one quite easily if given time and space – but being secretive was always a bummer on research and development projects.

Taking a deep breath, she let her slightly trembling limbs relax and tried to refocus on what she was good. Get to target location, check. Bring down security and infiltrate building, not check. Slaggit, how did Batman do this all night? He must have stamina like a god to keep this kind of work up. Groaning she rubbed her eyes through the mask. Personally, she thought she wasn't doing too bad considering this was the sixth building she had broken into tonight and it wasn't even midnight yet.

Fighting back fatigue she pushed herself up from her sitting position and reached for the rest of her tools. She made quick work of the security all things considered and was soon edging the window open. The office beyond was dark and empty as she knew it would be and so she climbed through.

The room was sparsely decorated, if somewhat expensively, and had the air of a room rarely occupied. She took a torch out and turned it on. There was a wall close to her right with what looked like a small closet covered by a curtain like thing and a lamp. The rest of the room was more yielding. There was a desk, a few filing cabinets, an entrainment system and a few couches. The woman moved over to the desk and started to search it.

The drawers were expectedly empty of anything interesting and after turning on the computer and hacking into the main frame she concluded that, indeed, the people she was after weren't complete idiots. They knew better than to leave evidence floating around for someone to discover. Slaggit.

Frustrated she moved onto the filing cabinets but they were no more informative. The woman sighed and leant back against the metal. Where could it be? Where? Frowning she straightened and looked over at the entrainment system – possibly... -

Her belt started to glow, flickering an insistent red.

She started and for a minute panicked. She glanced over the desk to make sure that it looked untouched and then started to seriously scan the room for a place to hide. Someone had tripped her temporary sensors. Someone was coming _now_.

She looked at the closet.

The light switched on outside the room.

She bolted across the room and had only just yanked the curtain closed in front of her as the room was opened and the lights were activated. She would have sighed but she kept a hand over her own mouth and moved back until she felt the back of the closet.

She had just settled herself between two heavy rain jackets when the curtain hiding her was ripped back.

BbBbBbBbBbBb

Wen-Shen Chang was not having a good night.

Tonight he and his daughter had be scheduled to have an intimate, family dinner with one of Wayne-Power's more prominent businessman and his family, only for Mairyn to feel unwell at the last minute. In many ways it was a blessing in disguise because it gave him a good excuse to cancel and still keep her out of the way.

But being called away by _him_ didn't constitute a good night to him. So he didn't knock on the office door when he arrived at the Captio Building or announce himself in any way, instead he barged in like he owned the place.

He did. One way or another.

The man, still in his own rain jacket, didn't look at all surprised by the sudden interruption or in fact alarmed by the rather gruff look on Chang's face. The man smiled pleasantly at him, a serene sort of cheerfulness radiating from him. A typical Gothamite as far as Chang could tell.

"Mr. Chang, how nice of you to come on such short notice." The man said airily, a mixture of politeness and familiar intimacy.

Chang glared and closed the office door behind him, making sure it was locked properly, "Well Doctor, you didn't exactly give me a choice now did you?" The man's smile wasn't at all affected by the dry distaste in Chang's voice, instead he gestured for the scowling man to take his coat off. "Sit, sir, take a load off while we talk." The doctor took his own jacket off and moved over to a curtained off piece of wall.

Chang counted to three mentally before speaking – already the man was testing his patience, as every meeting did so far. "_Doctor_, you know very well you are not to contact me, especially not directly. I cannot be seen to be involved in anything – anything like this, like you. Cut to the chase, I'm sure you're as busy as I am."

The doctor paused and then opened the curtain, throwing his jacket in blindly. He turned to face Chang, his eyes sharp, "I understand, _sir._ However there's been a, well, an interesting development in the goods you have requested and I felt you might want to be made aware of it."

Chang felt for a second a small wave of panic hit him and he managed to grind out, "What kind of a development? What are we talking about here?"

The doctor moved over to the couches, slowly taking a seat and pointing to another. Chang quickly sat down. "I have been conducting tests, as I'm sure your aware, on the goods and well, there seems to have been an unexpected reaction to one of my experiments-"

"What kind of a reaction? Slaggit, Xavier, I'm not paying you to play around with my _goods_ with your – your experiments! I bought a series of tests and an outcome and I expect them to be delivered undamaged!" Chang jumped to his feet, voice rising with every word. The doctor's face was calm but dark. He seemed to glower at Chang's disinterested view of his experiments.

"The tests you ordered," he started slowly, "are happening as we speak, but they take time. I feel that, while still uncertain, there is more to be gained here if I continue my experiments than if I –"

"No! I won't have you messing this up, Doctor. This is deep enough, if the Feds-"

Chang was cut off when the doctor stood up. His small stature seemed to grow with the malice shadowed on his face until he filled the room, glowering. "Mr. Chang. I dearly hope you're not backing out on me? That would be..." the man looked thoughtful, but it sent shivers down Chang's spine, "unhealthy for you."

The Doctor's eyes bore into him like laser drills, "I will not have Commissioner Gordon looking too closely at me. Understand? That woman is worse than the entire weight of the CIA baring down on you."

Chang stepped back. There was silence in the office, the doctor seemed darkly displeased and Chang was just trying not to freak out. "Doctor...the goods are...undamaged?" he offered anxiously.

"Yes. Of course. They are still valuable to us."

Chang started to pace back and forth.

"What of the results?"

"I told you, they are incomplete right now – you'll have them soon."

"I-if they are negative, Doctor, I want you to dump the goods as soon and as far as you can. I don't want anything that can be traced back to me, not if I'm going to win the deal with Wayne-Powers."

The doctor tilted his head, "Sir, if the tests are negative – and I assure you, I don't think they will be – then I have no intention of dumping them when they are still valuable to _me_."

Chang's face flushed a deep red and he swirled around angrily to face the doctor, "No! Damn it, just dump them, they're no use-"

"- To _you_. To me, however, they still have untapped potential. If they are negative, sir, I will of course offer you the chance to back out, with a refund." The doctor bowed his head.

Chang glared, feeling – and hating it– powerless. He wasn't influential enough to face down the doctor; that was why he had approached him for help when he had first arrived. From the things he had heard, it had seemed like a foolish mistake not to take the risk and see how this venture panned out – oh, how quickly this had gone wrong! He wanted out of this, without its high risk blowing up in their faces, but he needed this. He needed it. His company needed it. As long as the doctor cleaned up, he didn't care what the man did to the goods if it wasn't what he was looking for.

"You'll send me the test results?" His shoulders sank.

"Right away." The doctor smoothed out his clothes and extended his hand. Chang looked at it once, before spinning around and storming back out of the office. He fled the building as quickly and discreetly as he could.

Tonight – and this affair – might still be salvageable yet.

BbBbBbBbBbBb

She didn't breathe until the lights were at least turned off and the door closed. Curled up in a small ball, her heart was pounding against her rib cage, threatening to burst free. She raised a shaky hand to her head, silently thanking God. It was over and she had remained undetected.

– But how fruitless! Of all the things she was wanted to peg Wen-Shen Chang for, illegal use of chemicals and black-marketing was not one of them!

Growling she stood up, knocking the jacket to the floor. What a waste of her time. She could have been doing more useful stuff with her time, like finding relevant information instead of getting an ear full of Chang's dirty-dealing espionage. If she had time she might look further into supposed dealing with the 'Doctor' but right now this wasn't what she needed.

She sighed as she crossed the room, silently and graceful. This was starting to look like another dead end, just like every other lead tonight. The woman cast her eyes doubtfully around the room but decided even if she did manage to sneak anything out of the office, it wasn't going to be useful to her anyway. So, instead, she flicked on her belt and climbed out the window, closing it just as the door opened again. The doctor hurried back into the room, pulled back the curtain and grabbed his jacket – and left. She sighed, relieved, her shoulders dropping. That was close, far too close.

She looked at the drop. It was take a while to climb back down and her arms were already starting to ach – again, how on earth could Batman do this all night? Instead she laughed, flicked out her glider wings and dived.

She tumbled, down, down, down – past the still lit offices – past the flashing mirror windows. Down, through the streaking winds and roaring noise. She twisted her wrists to catch a draft, letting it push and contort her body in its slip stream.

She soared through the dark air; beneath her a few weary eyes glanced up and scurried away. She was no Batman, not by far. But Gotham embraced her in the night-time all the same and the woman loved her all the more for it. _Maybe_ tonight wasn't a waste after all...

* * *

:D I. am . ALIVE! Yes, now, for the fan who guess the name of the woman-in-white correctly get a sneak peak or a short one shot of their choice! who says I'm not good?


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

(Sunday morning,)

As morning rose over Gotham, a tense anxiety spread over the city – jumping from house to house, building to building, person to person. It spread in through the eyes and ran, like a chilly cold, into the heart. Wayne Manor was no exception – except it was a little more vocal in it thoughts.

"WHAT THE _HELL_ BRUCE?"

The shout ripped across the dining room with the same precision and force of a bullet. The normal silence of the manor-more like a mausoleum-had been tossed aside the last few days as the usually empty building filled with concerned 'relatives'. The scream that finally shattered the peace, in theory, could have come from any number of people – Dick Grayson, who was also so _tender _about other bats, Tim Drake who was close to the missing boy or even Barbara, Bat-Mother, Gordon who disliked being left out.

The fact it was Stephanie Ann Brown-Drake, Ex-Spoiler and the last, youngest, female Robin, who shouted the question on the whole of Gotham's collective minds, wasn't a surprise. Stephanie could never keep her mouth shut when something upset her and decades of experience had dulled no sense of righteousness.

Bruce calmly placed his coffee onto the table and picked up the paper Stephanie had thrown at him. He, briefly, considered reminding her of the rarity paper was nowadays, but decided he liked his limbs where they were and skillfully remained silent. Around the table, and behind Stephanie, the rest of the Batfamily leant forwards, even Barbara who had been the one to deliver the paper and who had spent the last few minutes running through every anger management technique she knew to keep her trembling mouth shut. Stephanie had foregone those and went straight for answers, Maxine peering over the older blonde's shoulder, interested.

She looked less than comfortable with the news it brought.

"Your point?" Bruce lowered the paper at long last; his face a little more pinched than normal and his eyes a little sharper, for so soon after sun rise.

"My point..." Stephanie met Bruce eyes as she drew the words out, "is that the kid hasn't even been missing forty-eight hours and you already sent his _replacement_ out?" She jabbed her finger into the news paper photo like it was an accused on the stand.

The photo depicted the all too familiar shape and dress of the vigilante. Although the picture was colored, the quality was shabby and her – oh, it was clearly a _her_ – face was blurred, but the suit was obviously not a left over Halloween costume. Where her heart should have been there was a white six pointed star, where the bat might have been. The caption above it read 'GOTHAM'S NEWEST VIGILANTE – BATGIRL? OR SILVERSTARR? – HEROINE OR VILLAIN?'

"I had nothing to do with _this_," he waved a gnarled hand at the paper, "girl's actions. Do you think I have had the time lately to secretly train up a new kid – or that I _would_?"

Stephanie huffed, throwing her hands up in outrage but sat down to let Barbara take over the interrogation. Bad cop, worse cop routine. The once red head woman left her calming technique in her seat as she stood in front of the old Batman.

"Bruce, if it wasn't you then who was it? In this day and age, kids don't just put on a leotard and go looking for crime. This girl, who ever she is, has some serious tech on her – very professional in her execution, trained obviously. She couldn't be working alone." Barbara leant forward to meet Bruce's skeptic look.

"Not with me." And that was final. The old man turned back to his black coffee, ignoring the others as if they had ceased to exist.

"Mhhh, Silverstarr – not the most creative title around it is?" Max admitted, amused as she took possession of the paper. She blushed as the table collectively shot her a 'look'. "What, I'm telling the truth, you'd think they'd come up with something a bit more original."

"What like Bat-man? Bat-Girl?" Dick Grayson, always the perkiest of the brooding lot, leant back, a mischievous grin stretching across his face. A few black locks of hair fell into his face, washing years away. Max shrugged the faint blush still present as she carefully didn't look at the older man. Bruce and Barbara didn't either, but if one looked closely (as all Bats did) they would have noticed their grips, on coffee or food, suddenly got a lot tighter. It took a lot of effort for them to ignore the grinning ex-Boy Wonder and not rush to the defense of their once names.

"Silverstarr is a Chinese name, from the mountain province. She's a traditional, mythological figure there." Tim observed from his plate of eggs.

His wife huffed and stabbed a bit of bacon rather enthusiastically, "How on earth would you know that?"

"I read. Remember, that action that involves picking up a book and absorbing the information in it?" He teased, his face wrinkling faintly. Ever since the Batfamily's last encounter with the Joker, Tim had become more light-hearted and less serious, adopting a sense of humor not too far removed from the one of his childhood. Stephanie was delighted, having often lamented her husband's constant seriousness. It wasn't too far to suspect that the happily married Robins thought Terry's involvement was key to his newly discovered freedom.

"Well, that's not really relevant since I doubt they are related. The woman being a myth and all." She popped a bit of sausage into her mouth, savoring the first real food she'd had in over twenty-four hours. The five hour nabbed sleep was also starting to kick in, making her as chipper as she had been as a little bird.

"Silverstarr isn't a myth; she was a warrior in the mountain." Bruce broke in. Of all of them, he had had the least sleep; Barbara and Tim clocking the next with Max and Dick not far behind them. They had been searching until just before sunrise when they had called it a night and collapsed. All the Bats knew that if his body hadn't started to rebel against him then he'd most likely still be working on finding Terry. No one blamed him; they were all starting to feel a little desperate, for Bruce who was blaming himself, _desperate_ said only little.

"And you'd know this, how?" Dick enquired as he sipped his coffee, shooting his ex-mentor a rather questionable look.

"I trained under her, about fifty years ago."

Barbara took a massive gulp of coffee, grimacing as the black power started to kick in. "Could it be the same woman? It wouldn't be the first myth that just didn't die out. It would explain her skill...if not her age." She rested her elbows on the table, ignoring any and all food in favor of more coffee.

"Impossible," Bruce frowned, "She died years ago; I buried her personally. She wasn't immortal, she had no students – that lived – and no family that anyone knew of. Of course, she had armor, rather...supernatural armor," disdain seemed to only enhance his already intimating features, "which had been passed down from each warrior to her student with the name but it disappeared at the time."

"And you let that go?" Ace growled, nudging at Tim's leg. The older man glared at the animal warily – he liked animals but Ace had developed a tendency to bite when least expected. Probably because he still associates Tim with the Joker and with Terry's disappearance that distrust had only grown as he suspected him for his part in his master's 'pup's' disappearance.

Bruce shook his head, "She was killed in a mudslide – the whole village. We were lucky to the find her body. The armor - we thought - was buried and I had more pressing matters than lost possessions."

"Could this new girl have it?"

"It doesn't look like it. It could be a coincidence."

Barbara snorted, "You don't believe in coincidence, Bruce."

The old man peered over his glass at her, "Don't I?"

There was silence as everyone paused, before shrugging and turning back to their food, knowing they'd eat very little the rest of the day. Max was the only exception, more engrossed in the newspaper article than anything else.

"Where were you last night, Max?" Barbara asked calmly, pouring more coffee, "I don't remember seeing you." The room tensed, the scraping of knives and forks stopped.

Max glance up, frowning, "I was at my house, of course. Dick dropped me off, I needed to drop my stuff of and pick up some equipment."

Dick carefully placed him toast on the plate, "Yes, I dropped her off, got my stuff and picked her up later." Barbara humped, meeting his pointed, defensive gaze. She raised an eyebrow, a small rogue grin touching her lips. Dick looked away first. Barbara turned her relentless glare onto Max.

"Rather strange, don't you think that this 'Silverstarr' didn't turn up until Batman vanished but _after_ you had returned from Metropolis?"

Stephanie and Tim's eyes slid from Barbara to Max and back again, Bruce simply watched Max, his eyes burrowing into her. The pink haired teen shifted in her chair and Bruce turned back to his coffee, satisfied – or at least, finding whatever it was he had expected to find.

Max flushed and glared back at Barbara, "I don't know what you're thinking, _Oracle_, because we don't all read minds." She crossed her arms, "But I think if I dressed up in this," she nodded to the paper, "then Bruce would know about it."

"Of course," she continued with a smirk, "if I did, I wouldn't be the first girl he let do what she felt she needed to do, _Batgirl_." Barbara didn't blush, but her lip thinned and she opened her mouth, her eyes a cold brown-

Beep, Beep, Beep.

She pulled her mobile out, "Commissioner Gordon." She stood up, putting her mug down, "I...at a friend's, Sam. Tell the detectives I'll be straight over." She closed the phone.

Tim put his knife and fork down and stood up, nervously straightening his clothes, "Any news?"

Barbara hesitated but shook her head. Around the table the other members of her family, the family her husband didn't know she had and the same one she couldn't bring herself to completely break free from, sighed. She swallowed. She...she wanted to be the one to find him, if she was to be honest with herself. She didn't want it to be Bruce, or Dick, or Max, or this Silverstarr – she wanted it to be her officers. She wanted it to be by the book, by the system.

But she was afraid that just wouldn't be enough. Even for her.

She sighed, and picked up her coat, "I'll call later or if I hear anything." She waved Tim off as he started towards her, "I know where the door is and Bruce – the paper's on me." She nodded and left.

Not even five minutes later, the table emptied as the others started their day jobs. Wide eyes, yawning and aching, they all remembered the price of a double life and regretted nothing.

It was time to start looking a little deeper.

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There were a scarce few places in the world Bruce Wayne wanted to be, and many that he didn't want to be. Currently, Wayne-Powers was the top of that list. Except...except that was where Wen-Shen Chang currently was and Bruce had more than a few chosen _words_ for that...man.

"Bruce, are you sure this is the best thing to do?" Dick hovered rather anxiously over his shoulder, Maxine – having banished herself to the corner – looked equally unsure. Dick didn't want him to meet Chang, not when Barbara had already told them that there was not enough evidence to connect him. That they knew, but clarity of who they were allowed to beat up was nice.

'_Don't touch him Bruce, or you'll be the one in trouble, we can't risk Terry...'_

'_Terry...__'_

Bruce closed his eyes and signed. "I wouldn't back down to Chang, Richard. It would only encourage him." He opened his eyes. Encourage him to do what was left unsaid. Dick shifted and sighed, his suit standing out against his skin, the same impatient way it had done as a child. No...The suit suited Dick, it was just that Dick didn't suit suits.

"He's here." Max spoke up suddenly, half torn between being completely worried and wanting to rip the man's head off. But she was still there. She opened the door, graciously welcoming the man in as she had rehearsed and indicated where 'Mister Wayne' wanted him to sit.

Chang just smiled nauseatingly up at him and Bruce felt his hands clench. Dick coughed behind him and Bruce relaxed, forcing himself to lighten up as he had as a young man. Just once more... then he'd show Chang _why_ he still ruled Gotham.

"Mister Wayne! Always a pleasure." He handed his coat to Maxine, treating her as if she was a particularly helpful coat stand. "I was so surprised when you arranged this meeting – on a Saturday. Was there something so anxious that it couldn't wait until Monday?" The man sat down, placing his case at his feet, "I do have a daughter, as you know, and Mairyn likes us to spend Saturdays together."

The false, sickening expression on the man's face almost tore all Bruce's resolve away - The Joker hadn't been this disgusting, but Bruce reframed. He smiled and offered his condolences, politely and polished playing the _Game_.

"May I take your case sir, out of the way? Would you care for some coffee or tea?" Maxine whispered quietly, eyes downcast. Chang glanced at her distractedly, "Yes, yes, Coffee thank you," and waved her away. A nod from Bruce and she left the room.

"I'm so sorry to hear about Terry; such a terrible thing to happen to a nice boy. No idea who has done it I presume?" Dick _coughed_ behind Bruce and the older man noted that his hands weren't the only ones flexing.

He wanted to wrap his hands around that lying weasel and rip his throat out. Forty years ago, he could have had Chang spilling his guts hours ago, hell, twenty years ago and he'd still have already found Terry or be on the trail to finding him. Twenty- he swallowed. Holding someone off a building was a useful skill – but other than Terry, no one else could do it right now. Unless, of course, he got Maxine to do it, dressed up as Batman, but the girl certainly didn't need that kind of acknowledgement. Maybe, just maybe, Terry did need a partner – to look out for him, where Bruce and the others couldn't...Maybe...

"Unfortunately, no." His voice was a little drier than he liked, but the gruff, grinding sound still made Chang flinch. "But we do...have ideas as to who may be behind it."

Chang shook his head in mocking 'distress', "Makes you almost sick doesn't it? The things people like that do. I hope his family are dealing well – I could only imagine my own state if Mairyn was to-" here he broke off, emulating the distress a father might feel when contemplating a missing child. Bruce's smile thinned and his silver blue eyes turned into storms. Dick coughed, again.

Chang looked up, "Ah, a new assistant I see. One must carry on after all, can't let bad things hold us down." The man's optimism was damped by the unsettled look in his eyes. Clearly, Chang was worried Bruce didn't care about Terry as much as he thought if he was so quick to replace him.

Bruce cleared his throat, "This is my son, Richard Grayson. He's temporarily aiding me while Terrence is...busy." He gestured to Dick, who inclined his head slightly, a cold impassive, lawyer face replacing his normally relaxed amusement. Frosty blue eyes examined the man the Bats suspected may have kidnapped his new brother. He found the man very distasteful, to be polite. Years of practice made raising an eyebrow in frank superiority easy.

After all, how else was he to piss off Roy Harper?

"How_ nice_ to meet you," He offered stiffly. Chang, realizing that the man he had first dismissed as 'staff' was actually quite important, stood up to shake his hand. Dick looked at it before turning to Bruce.

"I'll see what's taking Maxine," he said softly, "Undoubtedly the girl's gotten lost...again." He nodded to Chang – arms still outstretched – and left. He made sure to convey to Bruce, that he would only be seconds.

The door closed with a barely auditable 'snap'.

Chang slowly sat down again, looking far less cheerful and a little more normal with his rather annoyed dark eyes and flat smile. The perfectionist didn't like surprises.

Bruce tilted his head to one side, "Forgive him. He and Terry were close; he's rather upset by the whole affair." A lie, but Chang didn't need to know that.

Chang started to fix his tie, loosening it and then tightening it. "Yes of course, I understand completely. But Mr. Wayne, why did you bring me here?"

Bruce stepped around the question, "How is your daughter, sir? I know she and Terry were making fast friends?"

"She's fine," Chang snapped, "I mean, obviously," he backtracked, "she's a little worried for Terry and sad that such a thing has happened but she's otherwise fine. Now-"

"I can understand the pain you must feel seeing her so upset Mr. Chang." Bruce interrupted. "It is never easy for a father to see their child suffer." Bruce doubted very much that Chang knew anything of how his daughter was coping or in fact what was between her and Terry.

Chang was flustered, uncomfortable and confused by the subject change, "I- I yes, it is. I feel for Mr. McGinnis' father, to lose both his sons – well, it must be a terrible blow to him. I know if I were him, there would be little I wouldn't offer in return for their safety." Chang raised his eyes in a suggestive manner.

"Their father is dead, Mr. Chang but I'm sure their family would understand the sentiments." The words fell like stone walls. Chang's face closed off abruptly, eyes and face unreadable for the first time. "Yes, of course, how thoughtless of me." He said robotically before smiling weakly, "But you, sir, I know how hard it must be for you to see such terrible fortune to fall onto such an undeserving boys. As a father," he nodded to the door Dick had disappeared through, "you must surely wish for their safety as well."

Bruce rested his hands on the desk and his chin on his hands. "No more or less than I assume you would."

Chang didn't reply, so Bruce took the initiative. "Mr. Chang, you're new to Gotham, so I will be very frank with you. Terrence's disappearance, well, it is both unfortunate and tragic but the consequences will be more brutal. I know how other cities and other businesses work; Gotham is very different."

Bruce stood up, folding his hands to hide the small tremor in them. He turned to look out the window, at the city – his city –sprawled out before him. "People often think that family, loved ones, even friends are not safe in Gotham. They are most likely more safe here than anywhere else, because in Gotham we do not stand for our families to be threatened. You'll find that the wrath of the police and even the vigilantes, such as Batman, can often be far more brutal where our children are concerned..."

Bruce turned around. In the glass he had clearly seen the color drain from Chang's face at Bruce's confrontation. The _man_ hid his shaking form from Bruce's stormy eyes – the Prince of Gotham frowned, reproachful.

"Be assured, Mr. Chang, I will find who or whomever is responsible for this and they will pay most dearly for their _cheek_. They will wish they had never had heard of the name 'Wayne' and this is a policy I apply to everyone who works for me."

Chang weakly cleared his throat with a hand, "Surly you wouldn't give in to demand of k-kidnappers and terrorists –"

"No, that is against company policy. But I was talking about _punishment,_ Mr. Chang, not co-operation. The crime world of Gotham will not allow whoever is responsible anonymity much longer. I hope you understand; I apply this to your daughter too." His blue eyes soften, "As long as you and your daughter are in Gotham, sir, you are safe from any kind of harm. I do not wish for you to be too alarmed by what has happened."

Bruce sat down, and relief that he saw wash across Chang's face was sneer worthy. Oh, to anyone else, even to Derek Powers, Chang was a man of many masks.

Bruce had even more polished up.

"I-I thank you, Mister Wayne, I will rest far more easily at night knowing I have your protection. While the idea had not crossed my mind, it would not be the first time I have worried for my daughter."

Bruce smiled, "This is all I wanted. I hope you two can enjoy the rest of your weekend more ...relaxed."

There was short knock and the door opened as Dick and Max returned, carrying the briefcase and a forgotten cup of coffee.  
"I'm afraid, Maxine that your work was for nothing, Mr. Chang was just leaving." Dick gave Bruce a short nod while the man's attention was distracted on the 'flustered' Maxine.

Chang thanked Maxine, a little more polite this time, and took back his suitcase. He nodded to Dick and shook Bruce's hand. "I shall see you first thing on Monday morning." He promised and left.

There was still silence in the room after the door closed, before Max huffed and threw herself into a seat. Her limited submissive side had been pushed to far today and she was already in a bad mood. Bruce shot her an annoyed look but turned to Dick instead, "Anything?"

The younger man shrugged, "Business notes, a few pen drives – we checked it all, clean. And this." He handed Bruce a spare piece of paper. On it there was a number, an address and the name 'The Captio Building'. Nothing else, obviously copied from a business card because it was Max's handwriting.

Dick asked the question Bruce never got the chance to ask, "It's a building in lower Gotham, heavy security, rents out to some pretty shady people – Max looked them up. She's quite the wiz with the computer, as well as a very good actress." Dick shot the girl a well deserved grin to counteract Bruce's moodiness. She blushed in return.

Bruce didn't grin; he wanted to, but he didn't. "What are you waiting for? Go investigate them." He waved the two off. He decided to turn a deaf ear to Max's groan as Dick pulled her up and out the room. She had done good, after all, now she just had to keep it up.

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XD


	9. Chapter 9

Hi, Sorry I know it's been forever since I updated, which wasn't intentional, I just... lost track of the last time I updated. Opps. Also, thanks to CampionSayn for betaing this for me.

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Chapter nine

(Sunday Evening)

Pain.

Cold.

Terror, like just thawed ice, seeped into him making his head spin and his skin crawl. His stomach cowered and revolted and before he could even summon energy to breath, he was on his hands and knees vomiting. His hands trembled and his body, every inch throbbed with a vengeance. To his surprise, as he retched and gasped raw air, there were tears in his eyes. Everything _hurt_.

And Terry McGinnis knew he was alive, at least. Lost in pain, confusion and something that was a mixture of complete misery, the flu and a hangover but none the less _alive_. It was almost enough to make him wish otherwise.

With no more time than a few starved breaths, he collapsed again. He was exhausted and lay on cold ground shivering. He didn't know where he was, hell; he wasn't even sure who he was at that moment in time. His blood felt like syrup in his veins, sluggish and thick beneath his skin. His brain felt like it was battering again his skull in a desperate attempt to escape out of his eyes, which in return was stabbed by small pins with every heartbeat. He lay still and suffered.

After a few minutes, the symptoms fade just enough for him to think - albeit slowly. What had happened? Why did he...

He had been kidnapped – no... _they_ had been kidnapped, by... by... The Doctor, the – The Witch Doctor. Who had then dosed him in God only knows what ... and then... then what?

Agony. Terror. Terry couldn't remember a time he'd been more afraid or confused, more helpless or vulnerable. It wasn't a tangible fear but instinctive one, like a childish fear of the darkness. The endless wonders of what nightmarish creatures it contained. Terry had seen many terrifying things, long before he'd donned cape and cowl and dove head first in the heart of the corrupt Gotham.

Terry's nightmares were nothing to scoff at.

His hand twitched and he longed to move it – _he needed_ to move but his body was so heavy. Pushing the cry worthy pain away, he moved his arms, dropping his hands over his face. They were icy and wet. Sweat? He opened his eyes beadily.

Blood. His hands were covered in blood.

His stomach rolled again and his heart froze. There was blood on his hands and Terry could think of no reason for it to be there. Terror, lurching just beneath the surface hungry for more, reared up, paralyzing his limbs. Why was there blood? More importantly, whose was it?

His hands shook and he found it hard to breathe again. What had he done? He couldn't remember anything from after he'd be dosed, only distorted nightmares. _Anything _could have happened. He could have... _Anything._ _Any_ nightmare. Real.

His vision, weak and out of focus already, clouded and his cheeks were wet, he couldn't breathe –_WHAT HAD HE DONE? What...what..._

_What _had the Witch Doctor_ done _to _him?_

_Terry..._

God, Bruce!

_Terry..._

If he'd hurt anyone, the man would never look at him again, never mind forgive him.

_Terry! _

_Terry_ would never forgive himself if _he_ –

"TERRY!"

He jerked, flinching away as hands grabbed his shoulders. His eyes snapped open and before he could think he lashed out, his bloodied hands grabbing his attacker and pushing them back. They hit the floor as he sat up, head spinning. They were small, young, black haired and pale. Matt.

MATT!

"Slaggit! You 'kay?" he slurred out, suddenly realized that the world was, One, not meant to be jerking around so much and, Two, his tongue felt twice the size and unhelpfully useless. He tasted nothing but copper. Smell nothing but a metallic smell. Human blood. He coughed, his lungs burning up as they rattled against his ribs.

Small hands held onto his shoulders, tight enough to help, gentle enough not to hurt. Matt pressed a bottle of water against his split lip. Terry gratefully and greedily drank from it, even as his stomach lurch again. His fingers brushed furiously against his good leg, rubbing the red away. Whose was it?

"Ter," his brother whispered quietly, leaning closer. Terry blinked blindly and tried to focus on his little brother who looked a mess. Physically he was fine but he was several shades paler that he should be, his eyes were ringed with red and purple bags and tears hovered on the edge. It was the look in his eyes that nearly sent Terry feral and murderous. It was the haunted horrified ghost Terry had never wanted to see there, a loss of the illusion of innocence and safety.

He'd kill them.

He'd kill them a hundred times over. Then he'd make them wish they had never heard of Gotham. Because you'd be surprised what you can _live_ through and Terry knew it. And what he didn't know, Bruce Wayne certainly would.

His fingernails dug so deeply into the scarlet of his hands that the skin broke and seeped over the crust. He barely noticed, just enough to wipe it off furiously.

"Shhh, S'kay," Terry whispered croakily, pulling the younger boy closer into a hug. Matt shivered and his shoulder shook as if he was crying as he buried his head into his woozy brother's chest. He didn't make a sound however. Terry closed his eyes and rested his head on Matt's, his brother was _so_ warm. "S'kay, I'm fine, really."

He repeated and repeated, hushing Matt like he was three years old and scared of lightning again. Not that Terry had ever or would ever tell his brother of the many times he'd curled up next to Terry at night to sleep when he was little more than a baby but Terry remembered all the same.

When Matt pulled back (still keeping Terry at the ends of his fingers) he still looked scared and tired but the tenseness had escaped his shoulders. "You're hurt," he started reluctantly, "I heard you... I – I heard you screaming." The look came back with intensity and Terry flinched inside - _what it must have sounded like to Matt – _but on the outside he was solid steel. Was it his blood? Possibly. He couldn't help but feel relieved if more than a little disturbed. What had they _done_ to him?

What were they planning to do?

"Hey, everythin' fine 'kay? I'll fix this, I prom'se." He pulled Matt close, letting his brother seek comfort in his arms. He was completely unwilling to admit that he was the one drawing comfort from Matt. And that he had no idea what to do, training damned.

He'd fix this, if it was the last thing he'd do.

The sound of metal grinding against metal send a spike down his throat and his limbs froze before he even realized it. Swallowing he force the fear away, closing his eyes as things flitted in front of him. Bruce, red red paint, the smile, the laughter – wrongwrongwrong –

His breath caught in his throat, his lip trembled but he didn't cry, didn't make a sound. Red – Manic – hahahaha, laughing Bruce, the manic grin – wrongwrongwrong! – Where was he? Where was _Matt_? _Max?_ He gasped, pain shot through his chest – Red - WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP HIM! WHY – RED – WHY - HAHHA – WHY!

The words rushed through his head like a bass beat, thumping through his skull. Laughter, all he could – laughter. Grimacing, he covered his ears fingers digging in, he want the noise to stop, had to stop it. His head dropped forwards, eyes screwed close.

What wrong with him? What's what what – what had the Doctor done to him? He couldn't breathe – red – he couldn't – red red Hahahahah red.

"Now dear boy, don't strain yourself to much," a cultured voice whispered distantly, "I imagine you have quite a head ache."

His left side exploded, pain overflowing as he slumped back. His hands shook – redredredred – he couldn't think, couldn't - couldn't – what? – couldn't. The ground was cold, icy and wet; the doctor's foot nudged his back.

"You know, Mr McGinnis, the most amazing thing about my serum isn't what it does when it's in the bloodstream but the after affects left in its wake." Terry's head spun, around and around, like someone had forced him onto a merry-go-round on ultra speed. Matt... where was Matt? After affects, yes, Terry could certainly feel those goddamn after affects. He felt like he was dying and decomposing while still alive.

The Doctor's foot moved, pressing down on Terry's ear holding his head firmly in place when a sickening groan escaped his lips. His limbs started to twitch compulsively.

"The serum starts to regenerate itself whenever enough stimuli is present, say for instance, a nightmare," Eyes glued closed Terry couldn't see the way the Witch Doctor's eyes gleamed manically as every word lovingly slipped of his tongue. But he could hear the sadistic longing. "Is more than enough to jog some of the effects – and well, of course for the old saying, _face your demons_, let's just say," the Doctor laughed a hissy sort of laugher gesturing with a hand, "that's no longer an option for you Mister McGinnis."

His hearing started to go, fading in and out, screaming and laughter intermixed. _Bruce's_ deep brass pain ridden, the cackling _Jokerz,_ - Joker - laughing, laughing - His limbs were stiff, frozen, dead. Restraint. Only in his mind. Not real. RED. He had to move, he had too. Not – not - laughing.

But the _screaming_ was real. Matt was screaming. Real.

Matt.

Terry jerked.

He moved, sitting up with enough force to knock the Doctor off his balance, to throw off the hired goons clutching onto his screaming baby brother. Sudden Terry wasn't the only who knew fear. They stared as a snarling, wide eyes feral _thing_ staggering to its feet in place of a teenage boy. They leant back, fingers loosens as he lunged forwards, moving quickly and impossible.

CRACK! The man hit the cage wall with enough power to make it shudder. The man groaned and said nothing else as he crumbled. Terry swayed unsteadily as he turning, growling on the other. His leg protested but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel anything. He didn't think, he acted.

"No!" The other Hispanic man screamed, moving back until he was pressed completely against the steel bars. He remembers the last time. He had seen the marks. "No, please!"

The teen sneer drunkenly and lurched closer, his fingers brushed against the man's cheek before (with a comically groan) he fell to the ground. Behind him, the grim looking Doctor stood with a piece of broken pipe at the ready.

The Witch Doctor glared down at the broken form at his feet before jerking his head towards the younger boy who was standing with his foot on the head of the unconscious other man. Shacking, the Hispanic man moved to deal with the other while the Doctor drew a long empty syringe from his pocket, leaning over Terry.

Terrence McGinnis was certainly one of his more interesting, if troublesome, _patients_. He hoped his family was more co-operative.

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(Sunday Night)

Max kicked a trashcan with an overenthusiastic roundhouse kick. It crashed through the alley for a few feet before settling at the feet of some rats that turned to stare banefully at the pink haired teen. Max sneered back at them before turning to face Dick Grayson once more.

The joys of working with an ex-police officer and law enforcer.

"Are you sure there's nothing you can't tell me, Bongo? Nothing I can't do to _persuade you?_" There was something _different_ in his voice when he was working, Max had noticed - something both pleasant to listen to and yet rather alarming. She wondered if Bruce taught him this or if it was Bludhaven cop thing. Terry would never do this. It was too... old school.

"I don't know anything, I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!" The hysterical Jokerz screamed as the rather lethal looking stick slammed into the concrete just an inch from his right ear. Dick effortless twirled the other in his hand, pressing down harder on the crying clown's throat with his foot.

Terry wouldn't have done that. He would have just thrown him off a roof. Max thought it was strangely therapeutic.

"Really? 'Cuz I've been ahearing a lot of different things, dirt bag." It was effective, looking both calmly cool while you mental rip someone to shreds with your eyes. She'd have to try that one next time.

Instead she crossed over, tilting her head behind the hood covering most of her face and tapped the escrima stick away. Bongo's skin gained a few more shade of colour beneath the face paint when it appeared he wasn't about to be bludgeoned to death by a pair of hooded matrix wannabes. Still, she had to admit, the long leather jacket looked good on Dick. Very retro.

"We don't have time for game, clown. So I'll cut this short – tell us everything you know about Silver Starr and we'll leave," she waved a hand towards the distant entrance to the alley, "mess us around and we'll ripped your guts out so bad, dreg, you'll wish you'd never heard the word 'Gotham', preterito?" She poked his firmly in the chest, voice flat and even. Her normally flamboyant streak had vanished with her sleep deprivation and anxiety.

The clown nodded then shook his head, "I don't know anything, I swear to Mother Mary, not a thing. I don't know who this chick is or I'd tell you – I SWEAR," Dick pointed the end of the escrima into the man's noise. Reluctantly (not that Bongo knew that) she nodded to Dick who lowered the weapon and, pressing the release button, shrunk and stashed them in his coat.

They left, disappearing out of the alley and into the bustling crowds that Bongo had been trying to rob, fading from eyes to eyes like they had never been there.

"Well, that was a waste of time." Max huffed, knocking her hood back so she could rub her head. Dick shook his head exasperatedly but removed his hood as well, revealing the silver and black hair and faintly line skin. People might look at Max and be suspicious of a reckless teen but with Dick, they resembled every other trustworthy uncle and young niece enjoying a weekend out together, no matter where they went.

"Yeah, it was." Dick agreed, as he shifted his collar. Surprisingly, it had been so many years since he had last run a case, never mind one like this. His blood seemed to come alive and sing about it although it was so strange to him interrogating crooks in daylight and in civilian clothes.

"We've been working all day, Dick and we have nothing to show for it, nothing but a name that no one recognizes." She moved over to a fast food stand, hungry since she hadn't stopped all day.

"A name is something, Kiddo, and Babs is running it through her database, so's Bruce. If there's something to be found they'll find it." Dick ordered two burgers and handed over the money before Max could protest too loudly over it. After all, he had more money than he could possibly ever spend and nothing to spend it on, two burgers wasn't going to bust the bank.

Max must have been tried and hungry because she accepted it without any fuss and dug in. "I know. Tim's running forensic and Steph's interviewing any potential witnesses while we're left chasing loose end waiting for something to happen." She frowned, moving over to a bench. Dick sat down next to her.

"I don't like it," she admitted finally, "I feel like I'm wasting time and every second that goes away Terry and Matt are on their own, possibly in trouble and I'm... I'm doing nothing!" She glared at the white, slightly crusty bun; while Dick rested a hand on her shoulder his own food still untouched.

"You're hardly doing nothing, you're doing everything you can. We haven't stopped all day."

"But what does this Silver Starr got to do with anything?"

"She was last report at several locations that we know are connected to Chang. Either she's working for him, or against him or maybe with a completely different agenda. But she has to know something about Chang's dealings and that could lead us to Terry and Matt."

Max tilted her head back, scowling, "Are we even sure Chang's linked to this? Nothing we've turned up so far has even remotely pointed his way. I'm not saying he's innocent but... are we too desperate for it to be him?" She looked down, not longer hungry. "Are we even considering anyone else?"

Dick humped, slumping back, "Do we believe in coincidence?" he asked back. Max blinked.

"What are the chances that someone, someone different and completely unrelated to Chang in anyway, with an unknown motive kidnaps Terry and Matt at the same time that we are on alert for Chang trying something? As well as another, new vigilante turns up in town investigating Chang while the biggest story of the week is their kidnapping? The odds would have to be pretty high, if not impossible." He took a bite of the burger.

Max tapped her lip as she unconsciously slipped into 'thinking mode' - Dick thought the look suited her. "But not impossible. So Chang might be involved somehow, and Bruce is dealing with that – but Silver Starr? No one knows her, at all. She's like some sort of ghost or a myth."

Dick smiled, not his dazzling charmer smile but one that was all teeth revealed, slightly feral smile. "They say the exact same about Batman," he said, smacking her on the shoulder as he stood up, "I'd say _our _chances of finding an urban legend are pretty good."

* * *

So, too dark? What do you think about Terry, and Max and Dick?


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

(Sunday night – or very early Monday morning)

"Richard, Maxine, I need you down here. Now." Bruce growled down an intercom. Releasing the button, which beeped, he turned back to the package he had opened. After testing it, the objects inside had been placed on the cold steel table individually spaced apart. The letter, written on faded paper that had accompanied the package, was resting inside a plastic folder. Already Tim had whisked the packaging away to test for fingerprints or any clues.

Bruce tapped his fingers on his cane as he examined each the objects again. Two Letters, old paper, printed on, slightly smudged. Bruce's fingers hovered over one of the letters, which was placed carefully in the breast pocket of his coat. Before he focused on the other letter.

Paper. Paper. It struck him with force. Paper - who used paper anymore? Very few people, which should make it only slightly easier to trace. But from a profiling point of view who, in modern Gotham, would use paper instead of the 'traceless' digital messaging? Bruce rested his chin on his hands as he stared. Someone _old_, someone old _fashioned_. Who placed emphasis on the old times and values – but how did that matter to Terry and Matt?

He closed his eyes as his heart twitched. Very old-fashioned, indeed – even by his time's standard. His lips thinned, pressed together. And the formal speech of the letter. Most likely not sent from the kidnapper but certainly written under their orders.

It wasn't Chang. Whatever his connection was, Chang wasn't the kidnapper. The man was as modern as Powers was. He had been wrong. Again. His heart swelled painfully. What the hell was wrong with him? The World's so-called "Greatest Detective" couldn't crack a simple kidnapping! Not with all the dark thoughts whirling around his mind, stealing his breath and concentration away, anyway.

"Bruce?" The old man blinked. Dick was standing just behind him, blinking a little sleepily as he straightened his clothes. Bruce had known that Dick and Max would have most likely have fallen asleep, since it was very late. Or very early, depending on who you asked. They were bored – and desperate; although for Max's sake, Dick chose not to show it.

"We've been sent a ransom note." His voice was gruffer and duller than normal, but he pushed the thought aside. He nodded to the table. Dick stepped closer to examine it and Max, who had looked as if she could drop and sleep on the floor, now twitched as her eyes widened. All thoughts of sleep were knocked aside.

Bruce stepped back, letting the two look things over. A fresh set of eyes. Dick glanced at him, "Who's got the packaging?"

"Tim has it." Bruce confirmed. Obviously, Tim was the best forensic of them all.

Dick picked up the letter and read out loud,

_"Mr Wayne,_

_As I'm sure you have already noticed, the absences of young Mister Terrence McGinnis and his brother Matthew have been greatly covered by the media and police. However I'm sure you'll understand that passing this letter or its contents onto the police would be a very unfortunate decision, especially for the young McGinnis boys, whose s__afety__ I'm sure is of great priority to you. Our demands are simple, for the return of the boys to you, all we want is for you to conclude your deal with Mister Chang, tomorrow. After which we will contact you again with the rest of our demands. While this is a very simple request, be assured if this is not carried out to the very letter of Mister Chang's wishes then when you next see Terrence and Matthew, the sight will be less than welcome._

_The Kidnapper."_

Dick snorted, "Who the heck is this guy? Sounds like someone from Oliver Twist." He remarked, glaring at the letter. Max blinked blankly at Dick, clearly missing the reference before focusing on the letter again. Sometimes, she forgot how old Dick really was – then he did something really, well, old and she was reminded that he was old enough to be her Grandfather. It was slightly disconcerting, since she was starting to see him as a friend and, almost, something like a brother.

"At least we know Chang's behind it." Max whispered. Dick handed the letter back to Bruce.

"Do we? Chang's involved, but I wouldn't be sure if he's the one behind this anymore." Max stared, surprised at Bruce as he placed the letter back onto the table. "This all seems a little too indifferent to the deal for Chang. Too blunt as well, Chang prefers subtlety. Someone's helping him, someone who has Terry."

Dick nodded thoughtfully, running a hand through his hair. He thought it was a shame neither Jason (much to Bruce's relief) nor Cassandra could make it, both were very avid hunters especially of criminals. But it wasn't as if they could truly expect all their brothers and sisters to drop everything and return, Cassandra and Jason had their students to think of as well.

"I've got Stephanie working through the networks to check for any matching MOs and Barbara's checking with some of her Detectives." Bruce felt the needed to explain to Max, to prove to her that they were doing everything and anything possible to find them – and maybe to himself. They were working and they would find them, Bruce knew it. It was the condition that they'd be found in that had him concerned.

Max's eyes flitted over the other objects; she started and then jumped back, horrified, "Is that blood?" She cried.

Bruce scowled and Dick sighed, picking one of the two vials. It was their proof that the kidnapper had Terry and Matt. "Looks like it," He nodded slightly before turning to Bruce. "Take it you want me to break down the compounds?"

"Just standard blood works – confirm, check for poisons, unusual compounds, etc." He gently took the vial out of Dick's hands. Pulling a syringe he took a small sample of the blood, before doing the same with the other vial and another syringe.

"Take Max with you; show her what you're doing." He waved a dismissive hand and Dick nodded, grabbing the vials and wrapping an arm around a slightly distressed Maxine.

"Chill, Kiddo, they're fine. We'll find them – this is the break we need." He reassured her, whispering into her ear. Bruce raised an eyebrow but Dick was too focused on Max to see his adopted father's amusement. It was not lost on Bruce (or Barbara, or Tim, or Stephanie) how close Dick and Max had become and, whether Dick realised it or not, how much attention Dick was spending on the younger girl.

Bruce didn't disapprove but then he could hardly approve either. Max was barely legal and Dick was old enough to be her grandfather, looks aside - but for the moment he let it be. As long as Dick kept Max busy and supervised, Bruce didn't have to worry about her getting into trouble or hurt. He'd deal with his eldest's wandering affection later.

Fingering the syringes, Bruce disappeared off to another, more secluded area of the cave. Setting up the equipment he needed, he set the equipment to auto run for most of it. Meanwhile, he had some investigating to do – the kidnapper had slipped. Bruce knew that the master mind behind the kidnapping had his DNA, and there were few places that could be found. Bruce would check and he would find him. He pulled out the other letter – the one he had decided not to show Dick or Max, or even Tim or Barbara.

_Mr Wayne,_

_Included are two blood samples which I'm sure you know what to do with. Along with this letter are a copy of the results my own test procured – I'm sure you'll understand what it all means. I don't desire or presume to threaten you, merely to inform you of what is going on. The terms remain the same, I suggest this as an incentive – make the deal, or live knowing your sons will suffer for it._

It was unsigned.

Sighing, Bruce started to run the tests. He knew what the others would say; he was angry that the kidnappers appeared to know more than his own family knew about things. But more than ever, Bruce knew he was going to make these men suffer hell and more for what they were doing – ignorance was no excuse here. Bruce would not hold back.

If there was a hair so much as out of place... they would wish Batman killed, because there was nothing else Bruce wouldn't hesitate to inflict, repeatedly. Nothing Terry and Matt's brothers and sisters wouldn't hesitate too either. There was already blood on his hands, a little more wouldn't make any difference.

BbBbBbBbBbBb

To say that Terry was frankly sick of being kidnapped was an understatement.

That, and he was most likely dying.

When he woke up, again, it was with a cottony feeling – like he had a head cold and someone had decided rather bitchally to wrap wool around his head. That did nothing to suppress the ache, like lightening striking all over his skull. Terry took a shallow breath, because any deeper and he'd be physically ill. He listened, he waited.

Nothing.

His limbs were cold and sore, which he was now used to but they were his. Twitching his numb fingers, he tried to raise his arm. His left, with much effort, moved to rest on his chest. His right burned and refused to responded and when Terry cracked open an eye weakly, he saw why. His arm was chained to the cage, with the use of a set of rather high quality manacles.

And it was broken. He could tell because he could see the bone.

A small part of his mind groaned at the realisation that yet another part of his body was useless, but the rest was just blanketed in indifference. It wasn't cold, just a numb sort of feeling – like nothing mattered, like everything was insignificant. It was depression. He took another shaky breath, head stabbing with pain and his body just giving up.

Terry was just giving up. He couldn't walk, he couldn't use his arm, his head felt like it was churning cement and he couldn't sit up without fear of collapsing. And he felt like crying and he didn't know why. He remembered, sort of, what the Witch Doctor had done - what that Serum had done to him. He remembered the nightmares and that was more than enough. What could he do? With a broken leg and an arm, mostly likely brain damaged and pumped full of God only knew what, what could he do?

Batman would have known what to do; Bruce would know what to do. Hell Bruce just wouldn't have already fixed this mess; he would never have fallen for it in the first place. Certainly, Bruce Wayne would never have let an eight year old kid get involved in all of this.

Terry groaned, his throat swallowed painfully. Matt was curled up next to him, like some kind of furless cat– which, being slightly drugged up; Terry thought it was both cute and hysterical. A little wrinkled in the same clothes they'd be wearing for who knew how long, Matt didn't look hurt and Terry couldn't summon the energy, or the interest, to wake him up and check.

He promised. Terry closed his eyes. He had promised Matt he was going to fix this, that he'd get him home but Terry didn't even know where to begin. He wanted to sleep, to follow Matt and just sleep. He couldn't. He shouldn't - that was the concussion talking, the Serum affecting him. But he was tried: physically, mentally and spiritually – he was tired of fighting, he was tired of Gotham.

He was tired of always getting hurt.

His head drooped onto his chest again, his eyes fluttering closed. No. He opened them, struggling. No, he couldn't give up, for Matt. He couldn't give up on Matt. He needed to keep Mattie safe. The nightmares. Voices, sounds, smells, feelings – they flitted across the back of his mind, teasing him – warning. He couldn't sleep. He didn't want to see them again.

"Why keep fighting?" Terry blinked but he couldn't focus on the voice. The Witch Doctor, resting against the cage wall, his arms crossed over his chest, his head (or the blur on his shoulders) was tilted to the side, watching Terry struggle like it was a fascinating show. "Why not give up already, son? Aren't you tired? Sore? Just close your eyes and rest a while, you can do it." Terry shook his head drunkenly, exaggeratedly. He didn't listen, he didn't want to hear.

The Witch Doctor laughed quietly. "Scared of the nightmares?" he asked mockingly, "They're bad aren't they? Feel like they're real, and they are, believe me, they are. But I can make them go away." It was like a lullaby, the words washing over him as he fought against tiredness. The shadows in his mind giggled and laughed, fangs sharpened and glinted sadistically.

He shivered.

"I can make them leave. I can set you free." The Witch Doctor whispered, moving closer, closer until his breath was on Terry's cheek but all he could hear was maniacal giggling and laughter and shrieks curling around his ear. Too close. Too loud. "Free, Terry, remember that?"

Terry flinched, screwing up his eyes as a liquid shadow caressed his cheek; wet, cold and small particles clung to his skin. They moved, running along his face, searching for his nose, his mouth, his eyes. He held his breath. "Come on, dear boy, it's not that bad is it?" The boiling smell of something sulphurous blew across his face, like he'd suddenly thrown himself into a Lazarus pit – it was overwhelming, making his skin crawl.

No, Witch Doctor. Focus, McGinnis, Focus, Witch Doctor. He was talking, Focus on that.

Hands, no claws, seized his wrist making him cry out in sudden shock – not human. Not human, nooo, nothuman. Scales scraping along his flesh; feathers and bones pinning his wrist down, digging into find blood. Terry gasped, feeling something crawl through his hair, like living earth as a long moan burst through his ears. He kept his eyes shut, trembling as pain shot up his left side, claws biting in gleefully. It hurt so much. The shadows hissed and jostled, all wanting a bit, all wanting revenge. That laughing, in the background, laughing – cooing... No! His mind screamed, trying to get his limbs to move... So familiar.

"I can make it stop. I can stop it all," The distorted voice giggled furiously, "Come on, Fake-Boy, make it stop. Batman could." The shadows drew their claws over his face lightly, drawing blood around his eyes and his mouth, moving up and through his hair. "Laugh it up, McGinnis. LAUGH!" Pain, pain-

CRACK. His face suddenly exploded on one side, and Terry cried, eyes snapping open on instinct. A pale hand rubbed his cheek before clutching his chin, forcing his head up to look into sky blue eyes. The Witch Doctor smiled, like he was tasting blood and rather enjoyed it, "Good, Mr McGinnis, focus on me. Listen to what I'm saying," The old man whispered in a low but firm voice. He sounded like Bruce, Terry realized disconcertingly, when the old man was speaking to civilians who just weren't listening to him. He was in total control and aware of it.

The man raised his other hand slowly, noticing Terry flinch violently as he placed it on the boy's face, running a finger down from his eyes to his lips. Terry recoiled, watching as the Doctor's eyes flickered and flash, turning from blue to black and back and again, his white hair seemed green in the light and his lips were too red. Then he blinked, deliberately, and the Doctor was normal, focusing on Terry with a sombre look that was scary for a completely different reason.

"Do they hurt you, Terry, the dreams?" The man tapped Terry's chin gently. Pain rolled up his side, his broken leg throbbing and Terry slowly shook his head, realising for the first time that the mad man in front of him was terrifying... and that he scared Terry more than any one person ever had before.

"Now, don't lie. I don't like liars," The Doctor shifted, his black eyes glinting menacingly, "They scare you, rightfully so. Tell me about them, Terry, and I won't let them hurt you anymore. Promise." The Doctor whispered in his ear, his finger sliding from his chin down his neck until – he pressed down and Terry tensed, pain spreading down his neck to his shoulders, to his chest.

The shadows in the cage moved. They flickered in the dim light, growing and shrinking and shaking – laughing, crying, snarling. Terry blinked but they didn't fade, just flickered. Again, and again, and again, like they were waving at him. Beckoning.

"Just tell me Terry, what do you see? What happened, who did it? Who?" The voices growled and groaned, moaned and hissed. He wanted to cover his ears to block it all out.

He was shaking. His arms shook so bad the manacles clanked and the Doctor struggled to keep a firm grip on him, Terry's lip trembled as his eyes watered. Fear, it coursed through him, fear – terror – paralyzing him from the head down. Fear, like the Doctor had poisoned him with. The fear wasn't his, wasn't real. The fear was making the shadows real. Terry wasn't blind but he wished he was.

"Shhhhh, Shhhh, Child, Shhhh," The Doctor cooed gently, brushing back Terry's hair like he was a little child, "You don't want to wake Mattie, now do you?"

Then the laughing started again and the swallowing dark around Terry was almost welcome as the shadows lunged across the room. Then the screaming started.


	11. Chapter 11

Apparently, I am alive. Between work, babysitting, lesson and uni - busy busy and then now I'm still busier than people assume. I am however working away. XD

* * *

Chapter Eleven

(Still very early Monday morning)

Max was half asleep, and yet she knew that even if she was still in the very big, comfortable four-poster that Bruce had let her sleep in, she wouldn't have closed her eyes anyway.

So, eyes widened almost painfully, she took in everything as Dick led her through the labyrinth-like turns of the Cave, to an area that was covered in desks and equipment. And while most of it was a good few years old, Max almost wanted to drool over the advance tech laid out for her – expensive, specialised and so very _Schway._ About halfway through the desks, she could make out what had to be Mr Dra-Tim. It was Tim, his hair a complete mess as he expertly moved through the forensic stages of testing. He was so absorbed in his work, he didn't do more that blink as they entered the tech corner of the Cave – and she wasn't sure if the nod he gave was to himself, or to them.

"The blood testing facilities are over here," Dick pointed, steering her the rest of the way with a small nudge in the back. The equipment was all custom-made; some she suspected that Bruce or some other Batbrat must have designed and built; others were built especially and then bought. Her hand started to twitch at her side, desperate to run and test out all the machines like she was a kid being set loose in a toy shop.

The twitching stopped when she realised she was going to get to try out most of the machinery... on her best friend and (practically) baby brother's blood. Then she wanted to be sick, she could almost taste the bile in her mouth but she swallowed and focused on the task at hand. Max would do anything, _anything,_ to get her boys back home with her. Preferably safe and sound, but lately she was willing to compromise on that - if they were alive and somewhat sane. She took a deep breath.

"You okay, kid?" Dick's voice was low and soothing as he placed his hand carefully onto her shoulder. Without thinking Max placed her own hand over his, watching as he laced their fingers together and squeezed gently. His hand was warm, just like hers, but it felt so much stronger than Max's. _I'm not alone_, she blinked and squeezed back – whatever happened, from now on or with Terry, Max knew she wasn't alone. They weren't alone; there were people – family – who they could trust.

And she trusted Dick more than she trusted most adults in her life, and she'd known him for not even three days yet. What that said about Gotham, or the vigilante lifestyle, Max decided not to think about. She needed to _not_ think about that.

"I'm fine, I... I miss them, that's all." She let go of his hand and turned to face the equipment in front of them. "So, which first?"

Dick smiled teasing a hand through his hair, "What do you know about testing blood?"

Max shrugged grabbing a stool to rest on, "I think I might have skipped that class in school."

"Well, no worries, I'll take you through the Bat-note version."

Considering all he had learned about her since meeting her; with what he had picked up from Barbara, Tim and Stephanie and through the general Bat criteria, Dick shouldn't have been surprised. With the level of concentration, intelligence and speed that Max picked up and digested everything that he taught her, it was no time before he was standing back and letting her test the blood. It was fairly easy to work the machinery, and being the tech wiz that she was, Max was soon running through the tests and equipment as if she had been doing it for months already.

And he was fairly impressed.

There was a _lot_ about Maxine Gibson to be impressed with. He found himself admiring her courage, her strength of character, her wicked smarts, but most of all her cutting sense of humour and her deep-seeded loyalty. It cut him deeply to see the pain and uncertainly in the girl's eyes when she paused, even for a second, and severity of the situation smothered her – and then she was busy working again and the fear was replaced with a refusal to accept defeat. He didn't have the heart to tell her that truthfully it wasn't in her power to win.

No one had told Max what would happen if they didn't get Terry and Matt back. No one had to. Inside, the teenager was already aware of what failing to retrieve her friends would cost her, what it would cost Gotham overall. And the merest hint of Terry's death was driving the girl – driving her to do all and anything in her power to prevent it. Driving her quite _mad_.

She was a classic bat. And Stephanie had been right when she spoke about the girl as a perfect blend of her and Tim – upbeat, sarcastic, brilliant both with her intellect and her street smarts. Barbara was right too, when she moaned that she had cut links with the family years ago and wasn't in a position to take on another student. She really couldn't be a mother right now. Max wasn't Robin material – Robin, while she/he existed to keep Batman grounded and focused, also existed to learn and train under Batman. Robin was a _sidekick_ and a student, a child in pretty much every respect that mattered.

_Batgirl_ on the other hand was independent from Batman, someone who worked with him, trained with him and yet was still completely on her own. Batwoman was much like Batgirl, just – older, she had more _power (_if Dick was to be honest) than Batgirl. Ultimately she had as much sway over the _children_ as Daddy Bat did. And seeing the trust but concern in Max's eyes, Dick realised that cape or no cape Max was already involved in this – Gotham already had a new Mamma Bat. As Batgirl, Batwoman, Oracle or whatever name she chose, Max was already Terry's partner.

Watching her pour her effort into finding her partner and their brother, Dick couldn't explain why that _disappointed_ him. And nodding to Tim, he left Max working away and disappeared into the wider Cave, a plan already forming in his mind.

Barely half an hour after Dick disappeared; Max set the machines to automatic and before Tim could protest, vanished back upstairs into the manor as well.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The night was cold.

The chill bit into her skin worse that the night before but as she tore through the Gotham skyline, desperation eating away at her, she didn't care. Right there and then, lost in the dark labyrinth of Gotham, feeling so much like a mouse in a cage, she didn't care about anything around.

Her brilliant white cloak billowed behind her, its light weight meaning it barely held her back. Every foot fall was designed to push her faster, further, harder than the last one. And when she reached the end of the roof, the momentum behind her meant she didn't need to twist her cape into a glider.

In her ears, however, she could hear the counting seconds as they tumbled by. Time was short, both for Silver Starr and for the McGinnis boys. Hitting the roof with enough force to make her knees creak, she didn't pause to gasp but kept running. Her target for tonight wasn't too far away. Doctor Logan Grey was a respected Doctor of Medicine at Gotham University. He also had some information that she wanted, badly. That wasn't a nice place to be.

A short jump, and switching to her glider, Starr was rapidly approaching the University campus and the accommodation it provided for its staff and students. She was careful to stick to the shadows, suit on full power, as she crossed the very exposed campus. The buildings were set somewhat far apart, making it easy to spot someone crossing from one to another, which was mostly likely what it was designed to do. In a place like Gotham City, security and safety could never be far from the mind in doing anything.

Adjusting her gear, she scaled one of the walls and made quick work of one of the windows to a storage room on the third floor. It was very easy, especially since she had already hacked the access codes earlier. She tucked the device she had designed to override security locks into her utility belt, she gently closed the window behind her, but did not activate the locking mechanism. She climbed over the stacks of boxes and cleaning equipment and opened the door. Checking that it was clear, she left the room and, with inaudible footsteps, walked straight to the Doctor's door.

He might as well have left it open for her. Sliding into the room, she pulled a small injection pen from her belt and entered the Doctor's room.

BbBbBbBbB

When the Doctor came to, in a confused and befuddled state, he was aware that he was cold – no _freezing_. And suddenly his room was filled with a cold breeze. His eyes snapped open, and stared with horror as the last of the sedative faded from his system.

"Good evening, Doctor." A cold, metallic voice greeted him but turning his head as much as he was able to, Logan wasn't able to see who was speaking. But tied up, sitting rather precariously on a ledge six stories up _might_ distract a man _anyway_.

"W-what are you doing? What d-do you want from me?" He gasped, fear coursing through him – he was too scared to even move in case he dislodged himself from the delicate looking system of ropes his kidnapper had attached him too.

"Relax Doctor; I'm only going to ask you some simple questions. If you answer me to the best of your ability and honestly, I'll release you straight away and you can go back to bed." Logan noticed when something moved out of the darkness to his left. _Batman_, that was the only thing he could think – Batman had dragged him out of his bed and up onto a rooftop to torture him.

Then the Doctor noticed that figure was too small to be the legendary Batman, the costume was a dull silver and brilliant white... and it was a woman, dressed as an assassin. Tears started to run down his face, and he couldn't even bring himself to look the woman in the face.

She tilted her head to one side and lowered her voice to a growl, "Lie to me, even once, and you'll have just enough time to regret it before you hit the lovely stone cobbles."

He nodded rapidly, "What do you want to know?" And thinking as hard as he could Logan couldn't think of anything she'd want to know from him.

Silver Starr smiled beneath her mask, "Tell me about your good friend Doctor Xavier, why don't you Grey?"

The man fell silent, staring with blank eyes at the sparkling grey and black abyss he was hanging over. Then he shook his head, "No, I-I don't know him, I don't kn-"

_**CRACK**_.

His head snapped to one side and he cried out, blood leaking from his nose. Starr calmly reached over and grabbed a fist full of his hair and dragged the whimpering man closer to her. And nearer to the precarious edge.

"I warned you," she hissed, "Now, unless you really want to hurt, tell me about Xavier. Is he really worth the wrath of me, Batman, the whole of Gotham Police force and Bruce Wayne coming down on you?"

Logan's lips trembled, "I-I really, I don't know what he's doing, okay. I'm a Doctor for Christ sake; I don't get involved with him anymore!"

Starr pulled slightly harder, "Yeah, yeah, I'm aware of your past with him. Amazing what universities will overlook to get a good teacher, isn't it? ... Especially when you leave it out of your application and bribe the Chief of Security not to look into it." Logan blanched, shame flicking onto his face.

"I didn't have a choice; no one would look at me if they knew. I didn't know what Xavier was doing to those kids, or I'd never have recommended him." Starr released his hair, letting his head slump onto his chest. She shifted so that her boot was resting on the stone barrier between her and the sheer drop to the campus grounds, the same barrier that Doctor Logan Grey – also known as Doctor Lewis Gray – was sitting on.

It had taken a lot of digging, but interested in at least checking up on 'Doctor Xavier', had yielded some pretty fascinating and disturbing facts about the dear Doctor. The torture and insanity of several mentally traumatised children under the Doctor's care had been an unexpected find for her – and alarming. Ten years ago, Doctor James Xavier had been arrested and charged with the physical and mental assault of no _fewer_ than nine minors and a handful of young adults. _And the murder of fifteen others_. All of which had been recommended to him by Doctor Gray to deal with their extreme reactions to traumatic events they had suffered. The Doctor had manipulated events so that the children, more than he was charged with, were placed under his guardianship and then vanished with them.

She felt sick just scanning the notes involved. The whole scandal had been hushed up and Xavier had been confined to Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane after his mental state was declared to unstable to stand trial. Or at least until a year ago, after which Xavier disappeared entirely – no official discharge papers, no probation, no reassessment. Xavier had just walked out of the Asylum and no one seemed to think that was wrong at the time. Clearly some serious money had changed hands between some influential and anonymous people.

And while she couldn't put her finger on it, Starr was willing to bet big money on Xavier being involved in the McGinnis' kidnappings. He had experience, means – several of the children he tortured _had_ been kidnapped out of thin air – and if he was working for Chang then he had opportunity. She still wasn't sure what the motive was – but from what she had overheard, she was fairly certain if he had a part in the kidnapping then it sure as hell wasn't money he was after.

But it sounded like he wanted the boys for something particular. For some other reasons than to experiment on them, and _that_ scared her more that she was able to admit.

And she needed that answer, now.

"With very good reason, Doctor Gray. You honestly didn't notice when your best friend started to torture his patients – children? All of those kids, the ones not dead anyway, are still in sanatoriums and are probably going to stay there for the rest of their lives." She growled, resisting the urge to hit the man who had handpicked some of Xavier's victims.

"I swear I didn't know. It wasn't my fault – I tried to help those kids, really I did." Gray was red in the face, his eyes burning as he grinded his teeth. It hurt to think of those poor kids, but he did, every single day wishing he could have saved them.

"You can't, it's too late for them. But you can help save Xavier's newest victims Gray, by telling me what you know about your old friend." Starr tapped the man on the head seriously with the hilt of one of her daggers.

Gray's eyes widened in horror, "New... What are you talking about? J-Xavier wouldn't – he couldn't!"

Starr, playing with the dagger still, nodded grimly, "I'm sure you've heard of the McGinnis boys' kidnappings, it's all over the news. Xavier is involved, possible holding the boys and we both know exactly what he'll be doing to them. Right. Now."

A strong gust of wind slammed into them, causing Starr's cape to flap wildly and the edges of the Doctor's silk pyjamas to flutter. But neither moved an inch otherwise. The Doctor was still.

"He called me, about a week ago," the Doctor started croakily, "I hung up as soon as I realised it was him, I didn't even know they had let him out. They shouldn't have, after what he did." The man angrily shook his head, "but then he turned up at one of my lectures. I didn't have a choice in talking to him – b-but he knew who I was, he was threatening to hand me over to the police and I couldn't take that. James had destroyed my first career, my _life_ and now he was going to have _me_ sent to jail!"

Gray broke off, glaring furiously into the night, "All he wanted, or so he said, was access to some of his old supplies. I told him there was no way I could do that, I didn't have access. He just wanted these chemicals, god they were fucking expensive and highly restricted but I... I got them for him, like he asked." The Doctor's eyes were unfocused, something not quite anger and not quite like resentment was mixed in there.

"He said he wasn't going to use them again," the man whispered in a small voice, "and I believed him, I wanted to so badly. Just like before." Gray choked, a sob caught in his throat.

Starr didn't say anything to that; just let the Doctor struggle to keep his composure and suppress the grief he was feeling inside. She had an idea of what he must be going through, to see someone he had, and apparently still did, love do some many horrible things to those around him. But she didn't understand why Gray let himself continuously be taken in by Xavier, or how the smart man could have fallen in love and, slaggit, _still_ love a monster. Apparently love really was blind, even to morality.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know! I never meet with him outside of the university. He sent someone to pick up the chemicals."

Starr shifted, "Describe them."

"Umm, young, mid-twenties maybe. Hispanic, dark hair and eyes – had these tattoos on his shoulders, like a snake curled around his upper arm, up and around his neck. Piercing in his ears and nose, maybe a little spliced but I don't know with what."

She made a note of that in her computer, to search the Police files from anyone with that description or any gangs beside the obvious that used snakes as a mark. "Any banger or jail tats?"

The Doctor's eyes misted over slightly. She suppressed a sigh, "I'll take that as a no then."

Taking a deep breath, Silver Starr cut the ropes, letting the Doctor stagger backwards and collapse shaking on the ground. When the Doctor looked up, the Silver woman was gone, not a trace left of her.

The police knocked on his door at eleven o'clock sharp the next morning and Lewis told them everything, though it was little, that he knew and accepted his punishment without protesting. It was the very least he deserved, and if it helped those boys then he wasn't going to fight it.

* * *

The end is nigh, sort of. The end is begining is more like it.


	12. Chapter 12

Hi, so thanks to Campionsayn for Betaing. This story isn't abandoned, in fact, I've now finished it and I'm just revising the earlier chapters. I'll try to upload frequently for you. :)

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Chapter 12

(Monday morning)

When Bruce finally put the phone down, it was with a soft almost inaudible _click._

Then the old man laced his fingers together, his face dangerously blank as he stared out of his sitting room window, over the unruly, still dark gardens of Wayne Manor. The sun was on the horizon, it's faint light ghosting over the waters of Gotham Harbour in the distance. For minutes he sat in silence, watching the skies of Gotham lighten bit by bit, the shadows stirring and crawling back inside to sleep the day away till night again.

It was still so very very early, but already Bruce had received the other's turn and made his own move. The man was a stone statue in his own home – house, his own house – brow furled in thought as the day crept in. His limbs ached from lack of sleep, his eyes were sore from staring at screens and microscopes since the early, dark hours of the morning. Bruce felt so very old all of a sudden; lacking the energy to face what was already a trying day in a trying week.

Then the man beside him stirred from his own thoughts. "What time?" Tim asked, shifting in his own seat as he looked at the man he'd long called dad.

For a while, Bruce didn't say anything. Then, "Ten. We're holding the meeting at ten." The man's voice was low and seemed to echo with an absence. Tim blinked, tiredly, and tried to place what it was about Bruce's voice that seemingly appeared missing. But he couldn't put his finger on it.

"We'll be ready," the younger man said confidently, "everything's in place. Chang will either be contacted or he'll contact whoever he's working with when the deal is done and we'll find Terry." For a second, a ghost of Tim's childish enthusiasm flickered back into life in his speech. Then it died.

"We're going to need help Bruce." Tim leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared into Bruce's head, "More than Barbara can give. We need Batman."

Bruce turned to look back on his son, "Of all the people to ask me that, Tim, I'd have thought you'd be the last. No. Never." The room, already cold and hostile, dropped a few notches colder.

"Normally? Yes, I'd be the last. But she's ready, and we need her. We need someone in the suit, Bruce, and Maxine's all we've got right now." Tim stood up, "and I think Terry and Matt's _lives_ are worth the risk."

_Don't you agree? _It hung in the air unfairly – it wasn't as if Bruce didn't care, in fact, Bruce would do almost anything to see his boys back safe and unharmed. But he had to be realistic. And he didn't want to get to two sons back only to bury a daughter later on either – he had done that before too. It tasted just as bitter and cut as deep. He didn't want Max to die because of his choices.

But honestly, Bruce couldn't fight it – they need Batman. They were floundering without someone to search and dig up clues, need someone to make leaps in the very much changed Gotham that they couldn't. And Bruce couldn't be that man. He hadn't been that man for a very long time. And maybe Max _had_ proven herself time and time again as trustworthy, sensible in the field and smart enough not to get caught. Maybe there was something in her that even he had to admit fit in with their family.

"Where is she?"

Tim stretched out, "No idea," he answered honestly, "Disappeared not long after Dick did but she'll be back, soon." _We always come back, when we're needed._

Bruce nodded, accepting that for now. Then he stood up sorely – he had a meeting to prepare for and a trap to set.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

He had never been addicted to drugs, so had never had the dubious pleasure of going through withdrawal. But he had seen enough addicts, knew enough about it to know that it wasn't as bad as _**this**_ was. He had been drugged up before, but now even if he started to claw at his skin it wasn't going to shake the feeling of the Serum greasing up his bloodstream.

He shivered, his fingers harshly rubbing what parts of his arms he could reach – he was simultaneously hot and cold, shivering so hard he was going to dislodge teeth soon. He was so numb, his nerve ending were dead enough that he couldn't _feel_ anything with his hands or feet. His vision was shot to hell, though he couldn't decide if keeping them open and dealing with the hallucinations flittering in the corner of his eyes or closing them and letting the nightmares take over was better.

He was so exhausted and high on adrenaline that he didn't really get a choice but snapped back and forth between the two like an overstretched elastic band. Something spat and lashed out on his left and he recoiled instinctively, limbs twitching violently. He couldn't move, couldn't lift his head but the paralysis working its way through him only made him feel so much more powerless.

"Shhh, shhhh," Matt's voice was like a nightlight to a scared child and if Terry had been capable of a more coherent thought trail, it would have been tragic to him that his little brother, who wasn't far beyond needing a nightlight, was the one comforting him. But Terry wasn't really in any state to ponder anything, all his efforts went into fighting the delusions the serum was attacking his mind with – to holding on to the last thin bit of his sanity left. And he was lucky to have held out this long, but not for much longer.

The little boy was curled up as close to his brother as he could get, close enough to have a few bruises from Terry's erratic twitches. His hand gently ran through his brother's hair soothingly, he softly muttered sweet nothings as he dosed off himself. Tear tracks stood out on his face from red rimmed eyes, his lip shaking with every breath. The boy was devastated. He looked so small and fragile next to Terry but he was the only thing keeping his brother as sane as he was.

Terry gasped lightly, eyes snapping open even if they were glazed and blank. "Don't…touch…him." The young man coughed out, even as his chest rattled.

The older man paused, considering the words for a few seconds. Then the Doctor knelt down, close enough for the teenager to tremble and lean away but far enough that Terry could still fight to focus on him. "Why not Terry?"

Things were all over him, lights flashed through the pitched black cell and people screamed in his ears – but they weren't real, not as real as they felt. He refused to crawl back into his mind, he wouldn't be the man he was if he left fear control him, "Leave…Matt alone!" His lips almost curled into a snarl but they were trembling too much to be intimidating. The Doctor smiled at the effort, appreciating it for what it was.

"I'm not going to hurt him, promise." The man whispered soothingly, his eyes roaming over the teen – taking in the sweating, the shivers, the tremors, the faint blood redness of Terry's lips and the pale pallor of his skin.

"NO!" Terry curled around Matt, whose breath hitched slightly in his sleep but gladly burrowed into his brother's body.

"Now, Terrance," the Witch Doctor started patronisingly, "let's not be irrational. You're in no condition to look after a little boy like Matthew. _Especially_ after what you told me."

Terry bit his lip, resisting the urge to start clawing at his arms again to get rid of, if briefly, the feeling of things worming and biting their way under it. Told the Witch Doctor what exactly? He shivered painfully, his body shaking uncontrollable. He didn't know what time it was nor what day – he couldn't remember where he was or how he got there. He didn't even remember what had happened the last time he and the Doctor spoke. His memory was starting to fail him and _he just didn't know. _

"No," it was a whimper, broken. He flinched as the sensation of someone lunging at him, a fist aimed at his head jerked through him. No one touched him, nothing was real – notreal, notreal, notreal notrealnorealnoreal….

"No?" The man moved closer, his body contorting and growing, towering over the two like some giant troll. Then he was small again but every bit still as terrifying. His stomach flipped and protested, as empty as it was poisonpoisonpoison, everywhere, everything, poisonpoison! NO! Terry twitched, biting hard enough to draw blood from his lip – no poison, not real.

The monster grinned raggedly, fang dripping with acidic venom as it leant closer, it's claws reaching for Matt, for Terry. Claws sharp enough to slice through clothes and dig into soft skin – NO! **NO.** Terry curled tighter around Matt, shaking so hard his teeth rattled, eyes closing in anticipation. Pain, agony, ripping, tearing, seething. …But not real!

"There, there, Terry. It's okay." The teen cowered when the Doctor's fingers patted his head carefully, nowhere near heavy-handed enough to hurt him. The Doctor hushed him, brushing back his hair. "It's okay, I'm going to make it stop, I promise. It will all stop. Forever."

"Let… Mattie… go. Please," the whisper took more strength than Terry could spare, "you promised. Not to… hurt him."

Xavier trailed his hand down from the nest of raven hair, down along the white features of Terry's face. He studied them seriously, as if trying very very hard to commit them to memory or to match them up to something in his mind – he lightly caressed them ignoring the splutter of non-lucid protest from the teenager. The stare made Terry feel as if he was being stared down by a devil, its eyes burning and bursting with more dark thoughts than Terry could cope with. And truly, Xavier could live out each and every one and there was nothing Terry could do to stop him. That was what chilled him the most.

"I'm not going to hurt him, I'm going to send you both to your father now," The words didn't really make sense, even when Terry tried to focus on the Doctor's disappointed, almost heartbroken tone.

"W-what?"

Xavier rubbed Terry's jaw, like an affectionate master to his cat, "I'm, unfortunately, releasing you and Matthew from my care, due to unforeseen pressure I simply can't afford to keep you in my company."

The teen's eyes drunkenly tried to look at him but couldn't and his head lulled backwards instead. His cracked lips mouth words that he couldn't voice – some of it dipping into rambling vagueness. The rest were pleas.

"Don't worry, old chum," The Doctor said pleasantly, "I'll make sure you're in the best of hands." Xavier reached inside his coat, pulling out something that Terry couldn't see but that made the shrieking whispers explode in the back of his mind.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

Leaning against the wall in the massive entrance hall, Max rubbed her eyes hard as if she could wipe the dark bags and marks of sleeplessness from them. She was exhausted, and her body was starting to protest that it had been days since she had last had a somewhat restful sleep. Max might have youth on her side but she wasn't used to the late nights and constant awareness that had been demanded of her over the last three days. She had run a few cases with Terry before, but nothing like this. But then how could she sleep at a time like this?

"When this is over, I'm going to sleep for a week and Terry better wake me up with breakfast in bed," she moaned, pushing off the wall slightly. Yes, when this was all over Terry was going to make her breakfast, lunch and dinner for a month. That would be suitable compensation. She was going to make sure he was very aware that she wasn't going to let him or Matt out of her sight until she could be sure that she could trust them to not get themselves killed at the first opportunity.

Stretching her arms out in an attempt to force feeling back into them, Max's ears pricked slightly when she heard someone calling her name. Focusing, she realised the voice was Dick's, coming from behind the clock/entrance to the Batcave.

Apparently her absence had been noticed.

Sighing, Max moved over to the clock. A few days ago, she would have sold her soul to get this close to her best friend's world, to see inside the infamous Batcave – now, her sense of belonging was dampened by the looming sense of….loneliness. Absence. When …. Standing in the cave, next to Bruce and Dick, didn't feel right to her. Her fingers ran over the cold face of the clock, ticking away tauntingly at her. Tik, tok, tik, tok.

The sense of belonging she felt with Batman, when she was with Terry, wasn't there – she belonged next to _him_, be that in the Batcave, school or the sewers of Gotham. It wasn't that she didn't like being near the others, she adored them but so far she hadn't connected with them the way she had with _her _Batman. They didn't feel like _her Batfamily_, as much as she knew they would eventually. It was like a part of her kept having to remind herself that Dick was a Bat, Tim was a Bat, Stephanie was a Bat – that they knew what she was talking about, that they were part of the same Gotham she and Terry were now.

She wanted Batman next to her when she spoke 'business' with them, as if to reassure herself. And Bruce Wayne wasn't her Batman.

Max shivered slightly, pulling the brown jacket closer around her as she descended into the cave. In the early morning, the cave was airiness that, while refreshing normally, to her wearily body was uncomfortable. She wondered if Bruce did it deliberately.

"Max, there you are." Dick smiled brightly as he walked over to her. Tiredness enhanced every line on his face, aging him greatly but the honest enthusiasm in his smile was more than blinding even as Max blinked it away. He wrapped an affectionate arm around her shoulders as he steered her towards the Clay. Anyone else might have been offended by his constant manhandling, but Max had realised Dick was just a really affectionate and friendly person (he must have absorbed all of Bruce's interpersonal skills, in any case) and she was pretty outgoing anyway.

"Where did you disappear to?" he asked curiously.

"I needed to get out of here, for a bit. I… I needed to breathe." Max said absently, noticing that Bruce, Tim, Stephanie and Barbara were all gathered around the Clay, deep in discussion. Barbara who looked tired also looked very very – Max couldn't find a word for it. She wasn't furious (that expression she knew well) but certainly the older woman looked ticked off. Tim looked blank. As if the older man had already examined his feelings and had carefully concealed them behind a mask till after the aftermath hit. Stephanie looked like she was torn between concern, righteousness and … pleased? But then maybe Max was reading the blond woman wrong, since she hadn't spent all that much time with her and Steph was a complicated individual despite her simple disposition.

"Did I miss a summoning or something?"

Dick's smile got bigger, if possible, "Something like that, we have a proposition for you."

That was when the others, who had to know she was there but still ignored her, chose to acknowledge her arrival – which was what had her most suspicious. Steph, who had been leaning on the Clay (and pointedly ignoring Bruce's pointed glare for it) straightened up and moved her attention from Barbara to Max. Bruce ignored her while Tim looked like he was sizing her up, mentally making calculations. Barbara's lips thinned to a knife's edge, even as the steely look in her eyes took on a bit of a sadistic, if expectant look.

Crap.

"Please, I'm stringy and don't go well with ketchup – Eat Dick, he's a mature meat." She said deadpan.

Steph swallowed a snigger, "I'm sure that he is a 'mature meat', Dick is." Said 'meat' blushed a deep, mortified red. It shouldn't be possible for a man who had heard every innuendo-implied-name jab in existence to react but apparently it was.

"Stephanie!" he half gasped, half scolded his amused little sister. She waved him off, signalling that Jason would have done much much worse. And he would have.

Tim cleared an amused throat before redirecting the conversation, "Hi Max," he greeted the girl quietly, "you might want to pull up a chair, we have things to discuss."

And it was those words that send sparks of dread and horror into her stomach, but also seemed to weld her lips shut. Nodding shockingly, she accepted the empty chair that Steph kicked her way. The atmosphere that she had sensed earlier returned with a bloody vengeance, the pressure in the room built up enough to make her ears feel as if she was at the bottom of the ocean. Her hands found themselves gripping her seat to hide the trembling.

But Max has something she wanted to talk to them about anyway, so the girl took a deep shuddering breath and diverted the conversation. "I think I might have found a lead on Terry," She whispered.

The others stared at her, Bruce turned his head to look at her. She promptly decided to explain encase she were to suddenly combust under the intense looks. "I needed to get out of here last night, and I realised I had a lead I wanted to look into. Remember the card about the Captio Building that Chang owned?"

The others nodded. "Yeah," Dick shrugged, "we had a look into it but didn't find anything."

"Well, I decided to have another look. I thought we might have overlooked something." She blushed ever so slightly, "and I did find something. A Doctor James Xavier, who using one of the offices but whose name isn't on any lists." She had also traced Chang to a burn phone that she _thought_ might lead to Xavier but since she couldn't back that up at all, she wasn't going to throw it into the fray just yet.

Tim nodded slowly as he mentally ran through the information they had on Chang's contact, "That doesn't come up on anything."

The girl nodded furiously, "yes, well I followed him for a bit and did some digging after I lost him. Nothing good. He's an ex inmate of Arkham Asylum."

Barbara gasped, her fingers snapping together as realisation washed over her, "Xavier, damn it. Now I remember. God, I remember that case, it was horrible. The man was a psychopath on level with any of the old rogues, minus the cape and colours. It took us months to catch him and we never found all of his victims. He never said a word about what he did to them but…" She trailed off, shuddering. That had been a very bad case, both for her detectives in Special Circumstances and for Sam, who had prosecuted what was a very short but traumatic trial.

Bruce was already pulling up GCPF records and notes on the man and the case. Stephanie blanched as she turned to read the screen and colour drained out of Tim and Dick's faces quicker that money into an embezzler's pockets. It wasn't a pretty read, even for someone as hardened as the Bats. Max tried not to squirm in her seat, what notes she had been able to put together without tripping one of Bruce or Barbara's alarms (and she had still gotten through, being able to recognise their style miles off) had been detailed enough to give her nightmares for years to come.

"Maybe I'm just connecting the dots," she ventured quickly, "but he had means and opportunity to do it. And if he's working for Chang, then there is a motive. Hell, he shouldn't even be out. There's no record of his release in the system whatsoever."

Barbara was shaking her head mutely, "He wasn't released. He wasn't even up for parole – believe me, I'd be one of the first to know if that monster got out. And the first working on putting him back inside for life."

"Arkham policy at its best," Stephanie quipped with a little sneer, "Revolving door oiled with money and connections, all right."

There was a quiet moment as the Bats absorbed the new information, considering scenarios and formulating plans on it. Bruce absently tapped his fingers to his lips as his eyes roamed the page, taking in and analysing data quicker that Max could recognise it. He noted that Xavier, while being trained as a psychologist, had also gained a degree in chemistry and was known to have followed Doctor Jonathan Crane's work on fear gas and the mind. He remembered the effects of that very clearly, except Xavier's worked more of the subconscious mind than hallucinating specific nightmares into reality. It was more lethal that way, more damaging.

"But how are Xavier and Chang connected?" Tim mused out loud, "It's not like they're exactly in the same line of work or in the same social sphere. Xavier vanished from Arkham, oh at least nine to twelve months ago. Chang's been in Gotham, what, a week?"

"He wasn't involved in whatever originally sprung Xavier from Arkham. Maybe there's a third man who put them into contact?" Dick offered thoughtfully.

Barbara sighed, "If there is, they're covering their tracks very well. There's nothing to suggest a third person is involved though. Chang has lots of shady connections, Xavier's in hiding, someone may have put them in connect but a name and a number doesn't make then a third accomplice."

"True," Stephanie hummed, "but it's a link, which at the moment we're struggling to place between Chang and this Xavier. So Xavier's using an unregistered office at one of Chang's shady buildings, implicit but doesn't link them to Terry's kidnapping." The older blonde ran a hand distractedly through her hair, her mind full of different circumstances and possibilities. Damn, she'd been out of the game a long time. She would have had hundreds of motives and reasons otherwise.

"So Chang hires Xavier," Dick bounced on his feet slightly as he thought it through, "because either he's heard about Xavier's rep or someone pointed him in that direction. Xavier set up the kidnaping, nab the kids and what? Waits for Chang to get his deal and to pay him off?"

"Assuming he didn't just kill Terry and Matt when he nabbed them." Tim held up unarmed hands to fend off the glares that were aimed at his head – he was only voicing what everyone else was thinking, even if he was breaking the 'don't say the 'k' word till we know for sure' taboo floating around.

"No," Bruce whispered, "Chang doesn't care what happens to them but Terry and Matt? They're valuable to Xavier; their past is right up his street; his preferences, his interests." He was typing furiously at the keyboard, his fingers flying with a spryness that people of his age shouldn't have. Batman didn't flinch as he exploited the lead in his hands.

Concerned, Barbara leant closer to read his searches, "You think he's started to experiment again?" The older woman eyes had a look in them that confounded as much as intimidated her officers, one that the family surrounding her had never forgotten. Once a Bat, always a Bat.

"Did they ever stop?"

It was an open question, that even Max knew enough to guess was rhetorical – none of Terry's rogues ever stopped once they were caught or once they were free either. Insanity didn't stop because a jury found it guilty.

"There." His fingers tapped the keys, stopping the search. "Several chemicals have gone missing over the last eight months, mostly small doses here and there. Not enough to flag up on the system but this, this went missing a few weeks ago and it's restricted enough to automatically flag."

"He'd most likely bought it off the black market rather than steal it himself," Barbara pointed out, "too high risk for him, but to a pro? This is an easy job." Mentally, she started to run through who she knew was open for business at the moment and who'd been all too happy to acquire the goods for Xavier.

"I have some leads we can run down," she looked at Dick, "It was be quicker if…" It would be quicker if Batman could asked, instead of Max and Dick spending hours they didn't have chasing down criminals who'd take a while to realise that they weren't there to arrest them. Tim and Dick nodded, agreeing with her silent point.

"So?" Max interrupted, "Me and Dick can get started, we can check who was where and who made the sale."

"It would be far quicker to go over the robbery, maybe even check the building for hints of MO," Stephanie pointed out.

"Which bring us back to what we wanted to talk about, Max," Tim sighed, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. The girl stared at him, both blankly and with a touch of nerves.

If there was one thing that Bats tended to be, it was blunt where possible. "We want you to be Batgirl." And Max was left staring at Tim as if he had sprouted Kryptonian at her.

"Excuse me?" Funny thing, it had been Tim who had said it, but it was Bruce that she turned to for confirmation. The older man finally turned around to face her, leaving the screen of the Clay which had many continuous news feeds running on it, at his back. The look on his face was as deadly serious as it ever was, but it was the strangely reluctant look that told her he _was_ confirming the offer. Impossible. Next to him, Barbara had a look of similar resignation but otherwise looked like she was trying to remain impartial to things. Even she had been persuaded that they needed the benefit of surprise and stealth that Batgirl could offer.

"We need someone on the ground, or the air as the case may be – someone who can do things and go places that plainclothes," here Stephanie gestured to herself and the others, "can't be seen to be." The older woman's eyes seemed to sparkle slightly at the notion that Batgirl might fly again, or perhaps that Max was being given the opportunity to do what she wanted.

"It's only temporary, once Terry and Matt are back you give the suit straight back, Gibson." Bruce growled slightly, "Dick has an updated version of a prototype for you to wear."

Beaming Dick pulled what she had assumed was a work in progress for the Batsuit from the worktop. It was a dark black suit, but with faintly pinkish red stripe running down the sides and the boots and gloves were red too – clearly the suit had been dyed. The older bat held out the suit expectantly, and after staring at it uncomprehendingly for a few minutes, Max realised he was intending for her to take it.

Her own Batsuit! Admitted, it was a quick restyle of Terry's suit, but it would pass as Batgirl by a quick inspection. Her own suit… Max wondered if she had passed out at some point and hit her head, because there was really no way in a million years, mind control or not, that Bruce Wayne would consent to her even considering taking up a cowl. Considering how often the man chased her away from even speaking to Batman over the phone? Clearly someone, and she had her suspicions on whom, had talked him into it.

But how cool! Dumbstruck, Max accepted the cloth from Dick. It felt so –hard, the material was slightly slippery but it was more like Kevlar despite its shiny, metallic colours. It was lighter that she had expected, lighter than the Batsuit but heavier than its thinness belied. Her own suit…

"Now, I made some alterations, because obviously we're not going to have time to go over some of the more sophisticated features. But I think we can cramp the jets, hovering, the graffle in – Steph told me you already know some martial arts? And that Terry had passed some more on so…" Strange, how Dick's voice just dropped out of her ears as she studied the costume, comparing it to Batman's suit, mentally running through the differences without needing to be told.

Her as Batgirl…. That wasn't right. And while Max didn't really understand it, a part of her was disappointed in it all. Oh yes, there was the 'I'M GOING TO BE A SUPERHERO!' factor repeatedly kicking her brain in, but the pleasure of the surprise was fading a little to quickly. Sure Max wanted nothing more than to get closer to Terry, to Batman and his world if only to protect him but as her fingers wondered over this, she knew that this wasn't the way she was meant too. It didn't feel right.

"….I can't do this."

"What?" Dick cut off mid explanation, surprised.

Stephanie moved over, the ex-Robin and Batgirl herself wrapped her arms around the girl she was hoping to be her successor. "Honey, I know it's scary and a bit overwhelming at first but that's okay. Once the surprise has worn off –"  
"No," Max stopped her short with a firm but gentle command, "No, I can't be Batgirl. It's just not right." She looked back down at the costume, at her one unexpected opportunity – and for a second, she could see her own glorious career playing out in front of her. What a life she could have. "We don't need Batgirl, we need Batman. I can't fit that, not as her. I'm not her." …that life still wasn't what she felt was meant to be.

She held the costume out, not sure who she should return it too and it didn't help that a part of her was screaming to not let it go without a fight. But she couldn't wear this, she had neither earned it nor was she ready to go out there in it. That didn't mean she was going to sit by and do nothing by any means but she couldn't try to be someone she knew she wasn't when she did it.

"I'm not ready, not even for a little while." She explained to the Bats. One would expect them to be dumb struck, shocked or even offended, but they took it all in their stride, being more reflective on her reasoning than anything else. Steph was looking at her like she didn't know quite what to say, as did Dick. Barbara and Tim at least were thinking over her words and considering them.

Bruce was the only one who seemed to already know what he thought on the matter. And it was he who stood up, cane left lying against his chair, to accept the makeshift costume back. Max's hands shook slightly when the weight was accepted off of them but Bruce didn't make any motion about it. Instead the old man looked as if he was analysing her, like he was weighting up her application in a chess match. In his chess match.

"We still need someone to cover us later," he started slowly; his voice was so much gentler than she was used to. It was as if the passive aggression Bruce had for her had slipped out between his fingers, leaving behind that softer, more human man she had spoken to on the phone on Saturday morning. Like for a second Bruce trusted her more than he was normally willing to trust anyone who hadn't proven themselves ten times over to him. "I'd like you to cover us Max."

If she wasn't blushing, then Max had better at composure than she gave herself credit for, "Mr Wayne, I –" But Bruce stopped her short.

"I'd like you to cover us as Batman, not as Batgirl."

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Not abandoned!


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**(Monday Late Morning)**

Monday dawned, for Mairyn at least, far too early, bright and full of nauseous anticipation. Of course, by eight in the morning Mairyn had dragged herself out of bed, and after bidding her father a rather stiff farewell, she had started too prepared for the day. Because what a day today was going to be.

Today was the day her Father was going to 'sealed' his deal.

Today was the day that decided if the McGinnis brothers were going to go home or not.

Today was the day Mairyn was going to stop her father once and for all.

Strangely, that prospect hadn't propelled her to get out of bed any quicker. Not that she wasn't glad to see an end to her father's reign of terror, Mairyn herself would sleep better at night knowing her father was locked up for a long time but a part of her turned cold with the notion of what she was going to do. After all, it went against most of what she believed in and had been raised to believe in, to betray her father like she was planning to. But she reasoned with herself over a rather full _untouched_ plate of food, he had betrayed her first by being the man he was. Karma was about the way people acted, and it was fair even if it wasn't always kind. He had brought this on himself and if her actions now could save Terry and his brother, then maybe there was a chance she could still have a clean soul.

Even if the blood on her hands was her own father's blood.

After eating nothing at the restaurant (and wondering why she even bothered), Mairyn returned to her room. Her hands itched guiltily as she rode the elevator to her room, unable to look the other occupants in the face or return the few good natured 'good morning, young lady' the fatherly looking businessmen offered her. Somehow, nothing about the morning felt practically good to her. Once in her room, the door jammed shut behind her despite the fact she was the only one in the whole apartment, she pulled out her phone. She hesitated for a minutes, not sure if she really wanted to follow this through, then speed dialled a number she dreaded calling but still called every time.

"What?"

"Daddy," Mairyn started, almost surprised for a second at how…lost her voice sounded. Had she ever called her father Daddy? She couldn't remember it. There was nothing fatherly about Wen-Shen Chang, now or when she had been a little girl.

"Mairyn. What on earth is it? I'm preparing for a meeting now." The fact that her Father sounded distracted and stressed told her more than anything about what was happening right now. If his obsession wasn't controlling him right now, Chang might have almost passed as vaguely affectionate in his tone to her. There was no affection, just a hollow mockery. It felt like a knife being thrust inside her, though she didn't understand why a man she didn't really like and had never felt any real affectionate for, could have this effect on her.

"I know Daddy, I just wanted to wish you good luck with what happens." A part of her felt the knife twist her inside around. Why did this hurt so much? It was the right thing to do.

"Luck has nothing to do with it," his focus had returned, and the disinterested with replaced with a sharp, almost angry tinge. There was the man she knew, not that man she wished he might have been.

"…Yes, I know. I just want you to know I do love you, no matter the monster you are." The words flowed easily from her lips, like they had been clinging there for so many years, waiting to fall free. But they struggled to force themselves into the open air, as her eyes strung unwillingly – the truth hurt, more than she had thought it would.

Then there was the stunned silence on his end, as if her outburst was the last thing he had expected to hear and that Chang didn't know how respond to such a strange sentence. Mairyn terminated the line before he could shake himself out of it. After all, anything Chang could say at this point was only going to make things worse.

Shakily letting out a breath, Mairyn tucked her phone into her pocket and stripped back the sheets on her bed. Once she was down to the mattress, she pulled back the cloth and the foam to reveal the objects she had secreted away inside them. A few disks and memory sticks, containing all the dirt and evidence she had manage to dig up on her father over the last few days – all were copies, most stolen from computers and files her father wasn't aware Mairyn knew existed. But then, sometimes Mairyn thought her father had forgotten she existed, so the oversight might be expected. Mairyn was very good at getting into things people didn't want her to get into, or things maybe she really _shouldn't_ get into.

It was everything she needed to have her father arrested and his company shut down, she only hoped that the police would be able to use it to save Terry and Matt before it was too late. She owed it to them. As she pushed the information into her bag, her eyes landed on the photograph of her mum. Mairyn ran her fingers over the still imagine, remembering a time when the paper had been skin and the ink was real life, changing but constant. She missed her mum so much. There was so much of her that still lived on in Mairyn, but that felt like a weak substitution to an actual mum – and she was going to live the rest of her life without her mum to guide her onto the right path.

So maybe she owed taking her dad down to her mum as well. To avenge her murder, and to apologise for not always doing what Mairyn knew was the right thing.

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(Same time)

There was something terrifying about waking up and having no idea where you are. Sleep is such a vulnerable action for most humans, because when people sleep they can't control their environments and being out of control is… unnerving to some people. So waking up with no idea what happened to get them there was a horrible feeling.

Matt was actually getting used to waking up and finding that the nightmare apparently wasn't over yet. The last few days had been the worst of his life – worse than the divorce of his parents, worse than his brother's arrest and sequential imprisonment, worse even that his dad's brutal murder. Matt was aware that he was only a ten year old kid, that in the face of someone like the Witch Doctor his best hope was to be quiet, stay unnoticed and pray Batman got there soon. He knew he didn't stand a chance against his kidnappers. He knew there was a chance he was going to get really hurt, possible die, trapped in the cage.

But what the Doctor did to him was far worse than anything Matt's typically desensitized mind could think up. If anyone asked Matt who his greatest hero was, like any typical ten year old his response was 'Batman, duh'. And having been saved by Gotham's Knight before, Matt certainly knew there was so much about the Dark Knight to be in awe off. But in truth, Matt adored _Terry_ ten times more than _any_ mysterious vigilante. It was Terry after all, who taught him how to stop bullies at school without getting into trouble. It was Terry who let Matt curl up next to him to keep the monsters under the bed at bay. Terry, who was always bigger, stronger, faster, smarter (maybe not necessarily smarter, but given that Matt was only ten, he had yet to realize that) and so much more untouchable that any Batman could ever be. Matt hadn't really known his Dad that well, not like Terry had and when it came to a male role model who did Matt need more than Terry?... if only to learn what _not_ to do.

Matt didn't really understand why the Doctor did the things he did, or why the man was so obsessed with his brother. Hell, Matt didn't understand what was happening to Terry but when Terry screamed and cried and lashed out at things that just weren't there, Matt knew there was something very wrong with his brother. And he knew he was powerless to help his big brother because Matt was only ten years old. A kid. Matt wished he could be the one to save Terry, wished he wasn't just a boy, but he was. He wished he was Batman, so he's could protect Terry just this once, the way Terry protected him. But he wasn't. Terry needed an adult, a real, proper _medical_ doctor. Batman. His brother needed Batman to save him.

But Batman hadn't come. It confounded Matt that Gotham's hero hadn't come to rescue them. Hadn't Batman found them? Did he not know where they were? Wasn't he trying to look for them? Matt didn't know, but if Batman didn't dive in and rescue them soon, he was scared it might be too late for Terry, who was getting worse to the point he was barely awake anymore. He didn't want to lose his brother too.

Was _anyone_ even coming?

When Matt woke up that morning it was to find that he, and by extension Terry, were no longer locked up in a cage. While his heart had jumped hopefully, it had shattered again when he realized that they still weren't home like he had dreamed they were. They had been place in a big warehouse reminiscent room, with big crates and boxes stacked around the walls but the middle was empty except for them and a large machine. Leaning against the walls, encircling them, were men Matt recognized. They were the ones who had originally kidnapped them, all armed to the teeth with big guns. Which was partly cool, but mostly terrifying since Matt _knew_ those men would happily shoot him dead. And here there wasn't a second or third life he could rely on like in his games – if he died here, it was for good. Who'd look after Terry then? And his mum?

What Matt didn't know was why the scary old guy had moved them, maybe Batman had been by? But then if Batman had been near why hadn't he rescued them? Maybe… Batman was close? Matt didn't know, but he really wanted to go home with Terry.

"Terry…" The boy whimpered, pushing closer to his brother. Neither of them were locked up precisely, but with Terry in a right mess, Matt's legs tied up and gunmen around them, it wasn't as if they could walk away at any moment either. Terry didn't respond; his whole body was limp on the ground next to him. Unresponsive. Terry was never unresponsive to Matt; he was either really irritated at him or trying to make him laugh but he never ignored him. _Never._

For a minute, Matt didn't breathe. His lips trembled but he didn't dare make a sound in the event one of the men decided to shoot them. Instead he rolled over to face his brother, one hand shakily reaching up to his brother's neck.

His fingers fumbled since he wasn't actually sure what he was doing, but having seen it done on TV and knowing that there was a pulse thing in the neck from his science classes, Matt tried his best to check if his brother was still alive. He very nearly jumped out of his skin when Terry gave a small cough/gasp but otherwise didn't react to Matt's cool fingers. Terry's skin was as clammy as ever, having turning a lethal shade of white that looked as if the Witch Doctor had slit his wrist and bleed the teenager dry, every last drop. It was better to say his chest trembled; more than it rose or fell with his breath.

Matt's arm dropped and then started to shake – Terry was alive, but Matt wasn't sure for how much longer. And he wasn't sure how much more he could take either.

BbBbBbBbBbBb

(Same time)

By the time Bruce was sitting in his office preparing for the upcoming meeting, it felt as if the weight of the world was bearing down on his shoulders. Again. He was exhausted, physically and mentally. Age had dulled his edges and mind more than he'd been willing admit up till now. True, he was still a genius and still far more intelligence that the vast majority of people around him, but age was slowing him down just as it had slowed down his body. The last few days had worn him down to the bone and more. Years ago he would have gone days without proper sleep with little effect. Now? Now Bruce just wished he could close his eyes and rest. Sleep until this whole nightmare was over and done with.

But he couldn't. And sleep wasn't going to come till he saw Terry and Matt safely back in their mother's arms. He needed to know they were safe and well, that he hadn't messed things up for them completely. Rubbing his eyes, Bruce knew rest wouldn't come then either. Sleep was something he was going to scarcely see for a next while. He'd be having nightmares about losing the boys for a very long time to come – somehow he felt like he deserved it.

"We're ready," Dick said, placing the papers Chang's assistant had faxed over very early in the morning after they had arranged the meeting. The papers laid out the deal that Chang was offering them. To say it was very generous to Chang's company was an understatement, though it wasn't quite as blatantly ridiculously as he had been concerned it would be. The documents couldn't appear to be obviously rigged of course, not that it mattered since Bruce had the Police Commissioner and District Attorney backing him. It didn't matter if he signed it or not, it would never stand up in a court if anyone was stupid enough to push it.

The deal didn't matter at all, despite what Chang believed; he had lost his company once and lived through it. That he could survive, the past was the past after all. Bruce just knew he couldn't lose another child. He simply couldn't. His family legacy was pale next to their lives. He'd rather burn Wayne Enterprise into the ground than be forced to say goodbye to one of his children again.

"Max?" He asked, lacing his fingers together trying to not let the importance of the next hours take hold. He needed to focus and not let the_risk_ of the next move cloud his judgment. Bruce knew he was too close to this – when it came to his kids, he was always too close. Too distracted. Too late. Not this time. This time he wasn't going to let his pride hold him back from doing what was necessary.

Dick didn't falter, "In place, ready to move. Tim's set up and ready to go as soon as possible." He was so sure, just as full with optimism as he had been in his youth. In his mind there was no doubt, no fear or worry about failure. He believed in his younger brother and sisters, he believed in Bruce. He didn't know (or want to know) of any reason why they would fail. Bruce wished for once he could share his son's faith in the world. But sometimes it didn't matter if you did everything right, you could still end up losing.

Bruce nodded, watching the clock tick away to the meeting. He knew they were in place, he knew they were ready and while he had his doubts, Bruce knew Maxine wasn't going to fumble her next move. This was more than her one chance to prove herself, this was her one chance to save her best friend and for all her childish, inability to be serious, Max was just as determined as Stephanie had once been to do what was right. Bruce may not have recognized the potential of that determination at the time, but he knew now what a force it could be in a person. And he was banking on it.

The plan was simple, sign the deal then wait and watch for the kidnappers' next move since Chang had to be in contact with them. Bruce might be getting older, but Chang was starting to crack under the pressure Bruce was pushing on him, the man would seek out his accomplices as soon as it was over. Tim would run a constant search to track them down and Max, suited up, would follow the trail to the kidnappers. At least, that was what the others were aware was happening.

Bruce had warned Tim to keep an eye out for several individuals. He hadn't had many hit when tracking his blood down but what he had found out was… enlightening to say the least. Nothing that was concrete enough not to be a wild goose chase but enough that once more evidence came to light Bruce would pounce. There was more going on here than anyone else realized, and the fact that Bruce knew why most people weren't picking it up ran his blood cold. This game was much bigger, deeper and reached far beyond what most people could have imagined it to – beyond what the rest of the Bats guessed. But not beyond him. No, Bruce had ideas which were soon going to turn into theories and plots and he intended to hijack them for his own. Without permission of course.

But at the moment, he needed to go through the motions. Needed to get the ball rolling for the next moves. Needed to make his play. He needed to get his boys back, safe and unharmed. So he stretched his aching muscles and stood up.

"Let's get this over with."

BbBbBbBbBbBbBbBb

It was twenty-one minutes past ten exactly when his phone, which was sitting in front of him, went off.

Doctor James Xavier, also known as the Witch Doctor, sighed wearily as he picked it up. Wen-Shen Chang was a skewed businessman, a cunning entrepreneurs and a man of shady, if well placed connections. But the man, while he had as much potential as he did, was easily out of his depth when it came to Gotham's criminal underworld and its glorious royal family, the Waynes. And men out of their depth panicked, even when things were under control and running smoothly. Well, James had things under control; Wen-Shen much, much less so.

Chang wasn't the sort of person James would normally give the time of day – he had no class or refinement to him, just a well-educated thug really who had bullied himself to where he was now. Through blackmail, bribery and destroying the lives of other people as he went. There was nothing of his character or past that remotely interested Xavier. Mairyn Chang on the other hand was a fairly fascinating young lady, what with the trauma of her mother's rather brutal murder not so long ago. But at last, he had been ordered to remain away from Miss Chang for now, which he intended to do.

While Xavier was a very independent man, when you know more than your life is at stake, even the most independent of people will find themselves remarkable obedient.

Not, of course, that his benefactor scared him – intimidate perhaps. Xavier knew that when it came to _his_ benefactor, _he_ was out of _his_ depth. Now there was a man who could make people disappear with a twitch of his nose – but luckily for Xavier, when he himself was made to disappear, it was into the very well paying service of his benefactor and not to a prolonged, painful death. And if that service meant putting up with cowardly, incompetent, delusional men like Wen-Shen Chang, then Doctor James Xavier were more than willing to smile, bow and take all the crap he needed to get the bloody job done. Chang might not know who was really running the show (though Xavier enjoyed watching the man slowly come to the realization that it was not he who was setting up event, but he who was being set up to take the fall for someone else ploy), Xavier was well aware that he wasn't the one running it either.

"Mr. Chang," he answered the phone with an airy, pleasant voice as if he was ever so pleased at this unexpected call. Really he was wanted to dose the man in Serum for his incompetence but since the call was most likely being listened into... "You know well that you are not meant to contact me, especially not directly." He parroted back at Chang, from the man's earlier rant, with a distinct pleasure.

"Doctor," He could tell Chang's teeth were gnashing together behind the false polite tone, how amusing, "It's done."

The Doctor leant back in his seat, mentally counting the seconds that the Bats needed to trace the call, "Yes, yes of course it's done, dear sir. Did you not expect it to be so?"

The man didn't reply at first.

"You set me up." He returned in a low, barely a whisper accusation.

James would admit he was ever so surprised to hear Chang actually admit something he knew was plaguing the man's subconscious, "No, Chang, I didn't set you up." Of course not, as if he'd waste his time with Chang. And he wouldn't have, if his benefactor hadn't personally sent him instructions to use Chang. Naturally he wasn't going to admit _that_ on a recording, "You set yourself up for this. Did you really think you could get away with blackmailing _Bruce Wayne_?" And that was the self-deluded crux of the matter.

The accusing silence said it all.

Xavier laughed a mocking but genuine laugh. Of course Chang had thought he'd get away with it – as if the man had the brain to realize Bruce Wayne would never give into blackmail or that the man wasn't cowardly enough to _not_ turn to the police, or worse Batman for help. Not, and here the most deranged of smiles broke over the Witch Doctor's lips, that Bruce Wayne needed to turn to anyone for _help_ in Gotham City. A Prince might have a Knight, but that didn't always require him to _need_a Knight. Xavier knew he was privileged with the secrets that had been whispered in his ears, the reason why he was sitting in his office very, very far away from the Wayne boys. He, unlike Chang, was smart enough to realize that, yes, there were those who'd kill for those secrets – there were also those who'd kill to keep it that way. Bruce Wayne was more like them than the man was able to admit in good conscious.

Xavier liked his secrets after all, and that was why his benefactor liked him so much – because he _kept them._ Always.

"What do I do?" The question was asked with a sense of being lost and for a split second James felt sorry for Chang. The man after all had been played and played totally; he had had no chance of realizing what was happening before it was too late. Coming to Gotham had been the worst mistake of the man's life. But it was hard to feel sorry for someone whose own nature was more to blame than anything else. And James didn't do pity very well anyway.

"Carry on as normal, pray to God that the Bat has mercy on you – you got what you wanted didn't you? I'd say this deal has been a success." Xavier cheerfully reassured the other man, tapping a cheerful rhythm out on his desk. No, he didn't do pity.

"And the boys, what of them?" As if Chang really cared if the boys lived or died, Xavier knew irately, he just wanted to know if he was liable for their deaths or not.

"They're being very well taken care of, I assure you. They'll not be any more trouble to you, Mr. Chang." No one was going to trouble Chang anymore. The man had reached the end of his usefulness. "I'd like to say it's been a great pleasure working with you, sir, but in all honestly, it hasn't. So I will conclude our business now and wish you all the best with your future. I'm sure it will be… enlightening."

Then James Xavier ended the call, knowing he had given Chang, his benefactor and the Bats more than enough of his time. It was time for the last play. So he texted his men their next instructions and passed on confirmation to his benefactor. He had what his benefactor had wanted; he was the keeper of secrets after all.


	14. Chapter 14

Sorry about the wait. Just to let you know, given up editting or betaing, so any mistakes, please report and I'll fix!

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Chapter 14 

(Monday morning)

The suit fit.

Actually, it fit rather awkwardly around her far too curvy frame but what was a girl to do? It wasn't like Max could (and with a biting, sarcastic tongue made quite clear) remove her breasts or narrow her broad hips. Suddenly the ever so idolised hourglass shape basically sucked. But somehow Dick and Tim had made it work, padding out around her stomach so that her chest didn't stick out much (and considering Stephanie have rather apologetically bound them tightly, it wasn't as much as normal) and adjusted the suit so she didn't look quite so feminine in it. The end results weren't perfect, but since Max didn't intend to be seen up close and personal by anyone who'd have enough sense to see that Batman was looking more shapely than normal, it would work fine.

It was … unnerving how simply looking terrifying could cause people to overlook several things. And people weren't expecting Batman to have breasts now were they?

"I really really can't breathe, you know?" Max hissed lightly into the mike, honest to God convinced that if she so much as moved an inch she was going to dislodge herself from the wall and fall rather painfully down several stories. Terry made it look so effortless and simple – crouching on a wall really wasn't. But then neither was flying, but she had made quick work of that. It would be mortifying if a criminal saw Batman plough himself into a wall because he suddenly forgot to adjust his wing angle.

"Trust me, we know." Stephanie at least was sympathetic – and it had been interesting to watch Dick and Tim try to not turn various shades of red when Stephanie explained her own youthful encounters with corsets or bindings. Once or twice she had been required, both as Robin and as Batgirl, to dress either as a boy or as a younger girl and like Max, Stephanie well… she was rather well endowed and so going from a lot of breast to nothing didn't come without consequences. Consequences she was fairly sure Tim and Dick would have happily spent the rest of their lives unaware off. Though Tim had rather jokingly pointed out that Stephanie certainly hadn't suffered from the experience ( and considering what part of his wife's anatomy the once Robin had been leering at, Dick wasn't the only one who had thrown his hands over his ears and shouted about public decency. Max still couldn't look at Tim without blushing.)

"Ready?" Max didn't know how Dick was able to sound so perky and confident over the mike, like he wasn't leaving the lives of Terry and Matt in the hands of an untrained amateur who was starting to reconsidered how appropriate this really was. She suspected a huge amount of caffeine was involved because she didn't think he had had much more sleep than her, and her head was whirling with exhaustion and fear.

"I think I'm going to be sick," she whispered, "This is worse than Curare, totally unschway."

"You're doing brilliantly Max, just keep reminding yourself of that – self-doubt isn't going to help at this point."

Max decided that didn't warrant a reply, since she was sure if she opened her mouth something derisive and unhelpful was going to escape. And that would defeat the purpose. Instead she took a few deep breaths through her mouth, held and released slowly through her nose – exactly the way Terry had shown her to do when she was feeling stressed out. Slowly, some of the tense eased out of her limbs, which made crouching on the wall easier.

"They're starting," Dick breathed over the comm link, "Tim."

The older man didn't need the hint, "Running already, I've got any repeat calls noted in the system to trace if they flag." Then things were quiet.

It was the most awful silence Max had ever experienced – worse than any test, worse than after her parents had finished screaming, worse than waiting to hear what Terry had hurt this time. Every muscle in her body was buzzing with energy as it waited for the signal, tensing and relaxing. Adrenaline was both making her hyperaware and nauseous.

_For Terry. _She waited. _For Terry._

It ended in an instant yet Max could have spent hours, invisible, anticipation eating away at her limbs. But it wasn't hours; it was over very very quickly. Chang did everything she was told he would do.

"Tracing now!" Tim's voice was harsh as he used every bit of his skills to speed the trace along. Through her ear piece, she could hear Chang and his unknown associate speaking. Their voices were loud, like she was standing right next to them and she felt like she was being washed away with their words, even as she automatically spread her wings and flew.

"…_.You set me up." _

"_No, Chang, I didn't set you up."… "You set yourself up for this. Did you really think you could get away with blackmailing __**Bruce Wayne**__?"_

Had he? Max wondered as the suit processed the downloading information. Had Chang really, truly believed he could get away with blackmailing Old Man Wayne? It seemed like something only a fool or insane man would try, because everyone in Gotham knew that Wayne, old and decrepit as he was, still had a painful amount of pull with the people who mattered. How could Chang have not seem that threatening him was something he couldn't escape from?

…Hadn't Xavier?

"Locked on, Batman I'm downloading the coordinates to your suit now," It took Max a minute to snap back to reality and remember it was her Tim was talking to. She was Batman.

…"_Carry on as normal, pray to God that the Bat has mercy on you – you got what you wanted didn't you? I'd say this deal has been a success."_

"_And the boys, what of them?" _

She adjusted her wings and shifted her shape for maximum thrust her heat pounding in her chest. Unwillingly she found herself praying, _please be alive, please be alive. _They had to be alive. They just had to be.

…"_They're being very well taken care of, I assure you. They'll not be any more trouble to you, Mr Chang."_

The call ended but Batman was already half way there.

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(Same time)

On the outside, Gotham City Police Headquarters were a remarkably un-distinct and un-unique building. It fit perhaps a little too well in with its surrounding neighbours, despite the fact it was marked out as different. Different, Mairyn realised, but still cut from the same cloth as the rest – the police, yet most certainly the Police of _Gotham City._

That didn't fill her with confidence or enthusiasm. In fact, if it wasn't that Mairyn had found herself in too deep, the sight of Justice's nest in Gotham might have sent her scrambling back home. But things were as they were, and Mairyn found herself holding her breath as she walked into the proverbial lions' den.

After all, how many criminals in Gotham walked in and confessed? She'd wager not many. Walking through the building brought a strange surreal feeling. Passed her, men and women in stark white and black uniforms moved in masses, parting without noticing her like the Red Sea might have once parted for Moses. What was she to them? A victim? A Witness? She moved with a reluctant purpose that was more of a shield than she had guessed and she all too soon discovered herself in an overwrought squad room.

The room was decked out with posters and pictures, boards with scrawny almost illegible writing and phones ringing nonstop. The nerve centre of Major Crimes, the Legendary Gordons' Unit, all working there damn hardest to find two missing boys. Dedicated, because wasn't it their job to protect Gotham from itself? Mairyn pondered if they really knew half of what was going on, and if they would work so hard if they knew the truth.

She knew the truth. And believe her, nothing about it was freeing.

"Can I help you?"

Mairyn turned around, slightly startled at the tired, short tone aimed at her head. The officer in question was a woman, wearily brushing her hair out of her face even as her sharp eyes bored down on Mairyn.

"I… um, I have some i-information about Ter- the McGinnis boys." She stammered out nervously, suddenly unable to make her tongue work properly.

The officer shifted a subtle change in her posture that seemed to say so much more than it was meant to. "Oh yes? And what would that be?"

The tone was light, a fake ever so slight conceitedness and deep seated belief that whatever Mairyn had to say was useless. Yet Mairyn noticed that the woman's eyes flickered ever so slightly to a door that Mairyn realised led to Commissioner Gordon's office. She could have taken a running jump and guessed what was in the woman's eyes as they turn on her again – greed? Ambition? The desire for glory or the desire to end what had to be a time of great misery for all involved?

Mairyn squared her shoulders and forced all her faith into her eyes and into her voice. "I know who kidnapped them. I know why, and what more, I can prove it." Every word was solid and unshakable.

The officer tilted her head ever so slightly, and then nodded towards the Commissioner's door – or Mairyn noted, the set of four desks placed strategically in front of it. "Well I suppose you better take a seat and show me it, now shouldn't you?"

Mairyn nodded firmly, trying to loosen the iron grip she had on her bag. She allowed the sceptical officer to lead her over to the desk, which was packed with data pads and loose bits of paper that were piled about haphazardly. Clearly the search was wearing down everyone involved. 'Detective D Duquesne' read the plaque on the desk, which Mairyn would assume was the officer standing behind her. Mairyn was glad, because she had read a lot about Detective Duquesne when she was investigating Gordon and Major Crimes. The woman was well respected, for her achievements as much as for overcoming her family's past – if there was anyone going to understand where Mairyn was coming from, it might just be the Detective.

Detective Duquesne gestured for Mairyn to take the seat at the desk, while the officer reached over and dragged the chair from the vacant desk next to hers around so they were facing each other. Mairyn tried to push the nervous pull at her stomach away, because throwing up on the Detective's desk wasn't going to create a good first impression.

The officer nodded at her expectantly.

"I'm Mairyn Chang, my father is working with Wayne-Power's Enterprises on brokering a deal between them and his company. My father… has a different way of brokering deals than most people," Mairyn opened her bag and started to pull out the information, "I think you'll find the information from his computers is going to clear up a lot. Like a few unsolved murder cases." She finished softly, staring at her hands.

Like her mother's murder.

Detective Duquesne accepted the drives from Mairyn's hands; she inserted it into a data pad and quickly skimming over the information with a practised eye. Mairyn waited patiently, knowing that the Detective was going to be more than satisfied by what she'd find. But she couldn't raise her eyes from her hands. They didn't shake but she noticed they seemed … brighter than normal, like she had just scrubbed them clear and moisturised.

"My father… asked me to study Terry so he'd know if Terry was worth using against Mister Wayne. I did, but I didn't want too, Terry was a really really nice guy. I didn't know what my father had in mind but I didn't think it was this." Mairyn waved a hand around the room, unable to keep the shake from her voice or the moisture from escaping into her eyes. _I didn't want too_ – but she still did anyway. _I didn't know_ – that was a lie, she had an idea what her father would do. But it wasn't this. This wasn't Wen-shen Chang's thing

She couldn't keep the guilt pouring out of her, and she wouldn't even if she could. "I think my father's going to kill Terry and Matt. That's what he did before." Mairyn sniffed, "I don't know where he's keeping them but normally he does thing through these shady dummy companies. It's on the drives."

Detective Duquesne was already half way out of her seat, calling for 'ALCANA! BOLLOCK! Get the Commissioner!' even as Mairyn broke down in tears.

BbBbBbBbBbBb

Somehow, even as the information started to flow, Max already knew where she was going. Somewhere inside her just knew, the suspicion in the back of her mind took the moment to scream it was right. The system told her where to go, it mapped it out before her eyes in a colourful and enlighten manner. But Max realised where she was heading before the system had fully locked on the precise location.

The Captio Building wasn't the biggest building in Gotham, nor the tallest, not even the fanciest. But in Maxine's eyes, it was the most important building to ever have been built. It was considered to be a secure place and had invested millions of dollars in its security system. In a matter of a few minutes; a shattered wall or two, a desk flung against the wall, that reputation, of securing even the shadiest of clients, was gone. A lifetime in the making and all that. Chang was about to find his 'life time' was long gone.

It made sense, like a piece clicking into place – Chang and Xavier. Chang was bankrolling Xavier, Xavier knew where Terry was. Xavier was going to lead her straight to him.

"Witch Doctor." Batman breathed, a deep growl that spoke of a war waging behind the clothed mask.

The doctor-ish man, pinned to the wall with Batman's forearm jammed up against his windpipe, nodded expectantly. The only thing betraying his surprise was the ever so slight dilution of his eyes but that soon settled. There was no shock, no terror, only madness and cunning.

He looked different from what Max had expected – his face was heavily lined, his hair was thinner but the look in the Doctor's eyes; that unhinged sanity that was more terrifying than complete delusion, was still there. He look like the sort of man you'd trust to know what was best, a grandfatherly like man. That only made it worse.

Batman seemed to loom over the man, even as the sound of Captio's security shrieked around them. Yet the Witch Doctor wasn't afraid, like this wasn't a move that surprised him but one that he had planned on. _He let the trace go through,_ Batman realised, he had allowed the burn phone lying so innocently on the floor to be traced back to him, when her traces had failed earlier. He wanted Batman here.

_Good. Batman wanted to be here too._

Witch Doctor smiled slightly, bowing his head as much as possible when he could taste his own vocal cords in the back of his throat. "Batman, a pleasure at last." He wheezed out.

"Where are the boys?" Batman demanded, not relenting the pressure on his throat. A little more and it would snap, but Max didn't think she could keep him pinned for much longer anyway.

Witch Doctor ignored the question, "I have to admit – I wasn't expecting _you_ precisely. But you're welcome none the less, Miss Gibson."

She didn't think about it when she stepped back, allowing the man to slump against the wall. All Max could think about was the cold running down her spine, or the confused fear seeping into her head. But she refused to panic, didn't ponder _how_ Xavier could know what he knew. The man chuckled lightly, spluttering as he rubbed his throat. He didn't move to escape. Max was willing to bet not only was Xavier handing himself over to her custody, he wanted to be _in_ custody. He had no reason to stay free any longer, something ran other her soul, nothing else he needed to do. What did that mean for Terry and Matt? He had been expecting a_ Bat_ to drop in…

But not Batman.

She should probably have done something, said something to deny the words in Xavier's month, but she couldn't. To do so seemed pointless. Because all she could think of was where Xavier could have learned her name – and what he'd need to do to get it.

_Not Terry, please not Terry. Not again. _

"Don't look so surprised, dear. I'm good at what I do, and what I do is keep secrets." The Doctor mimicked zipping his lips tight shut, eyes' glinting cruelly; "nothing passes my lips, promise. And that goes for Mister Wayne too, since you're already listening. I won't say a word if you won't."

Batman breathed out slowly. The Doctor was wrong, Max wasn't surprised –

_Crack!_

– She was pissed off and scared that her best friend was dead, or worse. The Doctor groaned, clutching his nose as blood exploded from it. She hoped it hurt.

"…Max, Focus! Don't listen to what Xavier saying, push him on Terry." Bruce Wayne's deep rumble was more than enough to knock Max back on to track. _Focus, focus on finding Terry, that was all the mattered. _

Batman stepped closer, towering over the Witch Doctor again, "Where are the boys, Xavier. Last chance to tell me before I _beat_ it out of you." But the Doctor only shook his head, repeating what he said over and over and over, "I keep secrets, nothing passes my lips". Over and over till Max found herself ready to wring his neck.

She grabbed Xavier by the shoulders and pulled the man over to the window.

"WHERE ARE THEY? Tell me Xavier or so help me. You know what they mean to us." Batman held Xavier outside of it; intentions burning in her face as she ignored the warning bark from Bruce in her ear. She was sorely tempted to turn the audio off, but she reframed. Bruce would never trust her if there were things she tried to hide from him. She knew what she was doing.

"How painful it must be," The Doctor started, smiling sadly at Max, the wind buffeting him slightly. "You've lost so much, in such a little time – your father, as a little girl, your mother and sister as you grew up. Now you are faced with the fear that you have lost the only person you have left. You're so alone, that you cling to the nearest sign of acceptance even for someone as unstable and dangerous as Bruce Wayne. Don't you see his world, Miss Gibson?"

The man gestured a hand at her, "Don't you see what you've become to appease him? What he's led you to think is the only course of action to protect those you love?"

"Shut up!" Max snapped, her grip on Xavier straining, "W-Where are Terry and Matt, tell me!" But Xavier just kept on staring at her, with what she recognised as pity and compassion. _Compassion from a psychopath and a murderer, _Max wanted to spit the bad taste in her mouth out.

"Look at what you've become, my dear. And ask you're self, do you like what you see? A thug for a cripple **old man** who uses others in _**his own crusade against the world.**_** How many more need to die before he gives up?**_**"**_

"– Max, ignore the Witch Doctor, he's trying to play with your head. He's distracting you!" Dick's voice seemed so out of touch and far away from her. And whether she wanted to or not, Max's eyes opened for what felt like the first time in days. And she saw what she was doing.

She was in an armoured suit, holding a defenceless man out of a forty story building, threatening his life if he didn't give to her what she wanted. Why? Because Bruce told her to, because the other's said she needed too. That this was the only way to save Terry and Matt, violence and intimidation. It was like she had blinked and suddenly the wind was rushing over her skin, the unexpected noise of the alarms blaring in her ears, or the city screaming around her came to life. Suddenly Max was standing forty stories up and had no idea _how_ she had gotten to this place in her life.

Looking at Xavier, she realised to an extent the man was right, Max looked like a thug. But she wasn't. She wasn't a thug, luring young teens away to be hooked on drugs. She wasn't some dressed up Gang Banger looking to slice up some girl for getting better scores, she wasn't an assassin threatening to blow a whole city up simply to gain protection from she has wronged – she wasn't some mindless, cultist worshiping the ground one man claiming to have all the answers walked on. She knew what she was doing was, _to an extent_, wrong…

"I like what I see just fine," Batman answered. And before Xavier had time to so much as widen his eyes, Batman let go.

… Max was just simply beyond caring.

"**MAX! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!"**

Xavier fell like a rock, screaming in shock he flailed helpless. Apparently the dear Doctor hadn't actually expected her to drop him – clearly he, or Terry, didn't know her as well as he thought. Dick and Bruce screamed at her down the communications link, both she assumed, were more than a little freaked out by her actions.

Good, because that meant Xavier would be very slagged by it.

She arched her toes like a ballerina, stretching her muscles like a driver just before the plunge and then she fell. She didn't jump; she just tumbled out of the window, allowing the natural pull of the earth to drag her downwards.

Then Batman's wings _snap_ped out, and the jet's kicked in. She shot her grapple out, wrapping it around the screaming Xavier's middle before the man knew what was happening and _pulled. _Xavier gave a strange sort of quack which Max imagined was his stomach meeting his rib cage but otherwise the man hung limply and fine as Batman dragged him back up.

The man was pale and rather shaken when Batman gruffly settled him down on the ledge in front of his window.

"What do you think, Doctor, anymore observations?" Max asked, a sneer working its way into her voice and for the first time today, Max _felt_ like a Bat at work.

The Doctor seemed to consider saying something, then glanced over his shoulder at the sheer drop and almost changed his mind. Instead, the man settled on, "You are clearly already deep under Wayne's control," and said nothing else as she dragged him along the ledge, away from his office.

Her time was running short , and the last thing Max want was an interruption from Captio's security team, which should be waking up soon if Stephanie's forewarning that the sleeping gas was wearing off was accurate.

She didn't know what Terry did without backup. Because she was by no means done with Xavier yet. Kicking her jets back into life, she angled her and Xavier onto a nearby, shadowed rooftop – it was secluded enough that Security would pass it over, close by enough that Max didn't have to rely on her somewhat shaky flying skills.

Xavier hit the roof a little roughly but he would live. For now at least, once he was into police custody, he could die for all she cared.

"Now, Doctor, Where. Are. The. Boys? No more games."

But the Doctor shook his head and refused to answer, ducking his head into his shaking hands. Batman growled, but Xavier refused to react.

"He's in shock, well done," Bruce growled down the commlink sounding very unimpressed. Max had to bite down on her lip to not mouth off at the old man, this wasn't the time or the place to let her tongue loose.

Stepping back from Xavier, Max was careful to put enough distance that she could answer without him hearing but close enough to the man to stop him trying anything. "He's not," she argued back, "What else was I meant to do?"

"I have to admit Max, I seriously thought you were going to kill him," Dick sounded worried, and yet slightly relieved. Max felt guilty, she hadn't meant to scared Dick.

"Xavier can die when I'm done with him and not a second before." Her tone was light but the ominous nature flowed more easily than she had expected. _Once I have the boys_, Max glared at the man's back_, then you have my permission to die. Not a second before._

Bruce chose to ignore that comment, "He's no use to us in shock. We need to know where he's holding Terry and Matt STAT."

Pressure welled up behind Max's eyes, and the girl had the urge to scream down the link. Scream that she was doing the best she could do, that she wasn't trained for this, had never been shown what to do in the field. Wanted to shout at Bruce that she was a seventeen year old girl, who was scared and angry and that Xavier was right, she had no idea what she was doing. Wanted to cry because life wasn't fair, her best friend was either dead, dying or worse and even trying Max still felt powerless to do anything. She couldn't make Xavier talk, she could shout at him, push him around, throw him off a building and the man still wouldn't talk.

She felt the last now four days wash over, she was exhausted. She was tired of being awake, tired of constantly thinking, constantly worrying, tired of being afraid. She went from being ordered and pushed out of Batman's world, and now Bruce expected her to be able to do everything Terry could do, and she couldn't. _She couldn't._

But she had too. Because Terry wasn't here.

Her voice was quiet and low, "What do you want me to do Bruce, 'cus I'm out of ideas. The Commish couldn't get anything out of Xavier, what chance have I got?"

The quiet wasn't really quiet at all, and for a few seconds Max closed her eyes. She tried to pretend she wasn't on a rooftop with a dangerous killer, but the roaring of Gotham was in her ears and it was all she could hear.

"Talk to him."

Max opened her eyes, making sure Xavier hadn't move an inch, "What?"

Bruce was thinking, she could hear it, "Talk to him, Xavier likes to talk. Get him talking about what he knows, what he thinks he knows."

Max took a deep breath, it was a long shot but it was better that standing here looking stupid.

The Witch Doctor was more composed when she stopped behind him, but the tenseness in his hands didn't escape her. The man had nestled himself comfortably on the ground and that all knowing patronising air had returned somewhat.

"You think you know a lot, Witch Doctor. Like my name. How?" She didn't step around him and the Doctor didn't make an attempt to turn around.

The wind pushed them lightly and it didn't seem like Xavier was going to reply before he actually did.

"How do you think I know, Dear?"

It was a neutral response. And it deserved a neutral one in return.

"Someone told you."

The Doctor shifted, and Max caught sight of the fangless grin the man sported – and she didn't need to be psychic to read his mind. _Someone like Terry McGinnis perhaps?_

The man seemed to struggle with it, "Someone did." And the grin only got bigger, like he was laughing at her. Max supressed the desire to kick his teeth out.

"Terry wouldn't tell you."

The Doctor sighed, and a look of contemplation appeared on his face, "Can you be sure of that, dear girl? The burden you bare is a heavy and dark one," the man's eyes seemed to burn into Max's face and something chilling ran down her spine, like the man was reading her soul, "Mr McGinnis has seen things you would not believe. His nightmares are…potent."

Max almost leant back because the Doctor's next words seemed to reach up and caress her ears in a predatory manner. "Confession lightens the soul of mortal sinners, after all. Don't you ever wish you could whisper all those dark, fearful thoughts out loud, to let them go and never be trouble by them again?"

And that was why Xavier was so dangerous, Max realised. Behind the slightly pompous word play, was a man who knew exactly what to say and how to say it to get what he wanted, to invoke the right kind of reaction in someone. She didn't want to play mind games with him, she wasn't sure she would win.

Or get away unscathed.

"Just keep him talking Max, and he'll say something we can use." Dick encouraged her softly.

Then her radio became an explosion of noise.

Distantly Max could hear Barbara link into to the network and updating the others on what was happening. Apparently, Mairyn had come forwards with information that didn't just incriminate her father but also set him up nicely for Terry and Matt's kidnapping. As of now, Barbara's techs were scanning the information and digging into Chang again for any where the boys could be.

Also a man by the name of Doctor Logan Grey or Lewis Gray had been arrested after an anonymous tip about his connection. Max knew him, he had once been Xavier's best friend and unwitting accomplice in his crimes. The only reason the man wasn't in jail was that fact he genuinely hadn't known, he had just been too blind to see what was happening.

Glancing at the Witch Doctor, she wondered if she could honestly blame him from not seeing the real monster behind the mask of caring actions and refined words, however false they may be. While some of Special Circumstance's Detectives interviewed Doctor Gray, Barbara was arranging an arrest warrant on Chang for her Detectives, and Dick was going to contain Chang as the man was still finishing some paper work at Wayne-Power Enterprise. They were running low on time.

But maybe Batman could use that.

"No Doctor, I've never wanted to talk about my thoughts. But what about you? Assume you must have heard some gruelling details in you times; after all, your specialty is traumatic events. Don't you even want to talk about it?"

The Doctor's grin had faded slightly, not liking the turn of conversation Max supposed.

"Ever talk about it with Wen-shen Chang?" she pressed, confidently. Xavier said nothing.

"Oh, I think Chang likes to talk too. And I'm sure he's going to love talking to Commissioner Gordon when reaches GCPF HQ, won't he? Did you know he's under arrest? Of course you did. And I'm sure you know as soon as he gets the chance," Batman leant closer to Xavier, her words dipping low, "He's going to sing like a bird for us."

The man didn't move, didn't make a sound, in fact the man's teeth seemed to be all but welded together. Max wasn't totally surprised; Xavier after all had resisted Barbara Gordon herself in an interrogation room more than a few times. But she also got the impression that Xavier's silence was more than his disinterest with the topic matter. Perhaps it was to do with the topic itself? Because from what she heard of the phone call between them, she didn't think it was far off to say that Xavier didn't like Chang. Actually, Max would bet money that Xavier _hated _Chang if the barely concealed disdain was any hint. Maybe it had been Xavier (being very tight-smiling-lipped about _how_ he knew what he did) who had approached Chang to arrange the kidnapping and had left Chang to appear as the mastermind behind it all. With a past like his, would anyone really doubt that it was Chang's idea? Chang had motive, which apart from his obsessed madness, Xavier didn't have.

"Men like Chang; posh, privileged, _weak. _They don't last long in an interrogation." She carried on.

Xavier smiled again with just a trace of malice there, "Don't worry about me dear, I don't think Chang will be talking to anyone at all. Men like _him_ don't say much." His eyes were a mix of pity and amusement.

That didn't make much sense. "What does that mean?"

But Xavier, with that infuriating patronising smile, refused to say more. Max pressed him, "We both know as soon as Bruce Wayne gets a shot at him, he'll break. Like you will." _Like everyone does. _

"_Men like Mr Chang_," The Doctor started, frustration bleeding through, "don't belong in Gotham; they're not like us, not raised like us. They don't understand and never will. There's no stomach there, no back bone. You wouldn't need Bruce Wayne to break him, which is lucky for you –"

Xavier cut off, falling silent with the air of a man who had let his emotions get the better of him and had said too much. Batman let him fall silent, what's said was said after all. Her mind was whirling with his words, the ones he _hadn't _wanted to say.

Xavier knew Chang was going to spill, the man had all but concurred that point. But that didn't worry Xavier; the man knew somehow that Chang wasn't going to speak. Or wasn't going to get the chance to speak? He wasn't concerned that Old Man Wayne was going to drag the location out of Chang, that somehow Chang would resist the persuasion of the more _experienced_ bats. So either Chang did not know anything or … or something was going to happen, something to change the game.

The realisation wasn't pretty, and she felt so stupid for not realising earlier. Terry wouldn't have missed it, she felt.

"Well talk about this later, Doctor." She snapped, pressing the tranquiliser gun that Terry kept stored on his belt against the Doctor's neck and pulled the trigger. Xavier barely had time to groan before he was on the ground, out cold. Ready to be picked up by Stephanie as soon as she was in position.

It gave Max a lot of satisfaction, even as the whirling information passing between different Bats pushed a different thought into her head.

Xavier was stalling.

Because dead men don't talk. Or interrogate.


	15. Chapter 15

Okay, kind of disappointed didn't get more review for the last chapter, what was wrong with it? Do youse not like what I'm doing? Again, not beta-ed so *please* report any mistakes!

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Chapter 15

(Monday afternoon)

Wen-shen Chang didn't look like a man who had just signed off on a deal that was going to _make_ his company. In fact, the man was rather ashen faced, and looked as if he had just been told he had terminal cancer with only weeks to live. Perhaps if Bruce Wayne had been a more sympathetic man overall he'd have felt something like pity for Chang. But he wasn't and he didn't.

Right now, all Bruce Wayne felt was the increasing desire to take Chang's head and smash it repeatedly against the reinforced window of the lounge he had retreated too. Chang was sitting on a couch, staring unseeingly at the coffee table, his phone lay abandoned on it in front of him. The man's well trained assistants hung behind him staring at the man as if the broken figure on the couch was someone they didn't recognise. Dick was sitting in a distant corner, typing away at his tablet as he listened to something on his earpiece.

Bruce turned to stare out at the city; half listening to Barbara talk furiously across the radio and half listening to Maxine interrogate Xavier. The man was being inconveniently silent in regards to his part in it all, and unfortunately he wasn't scared or remotely intimidated by Batman – being shaken down by a teenage girl simply didn't have the same impact as Batman did when you knew the truth.

His fingers tightened over his cane as he mentally relayed Xavier's reveal. He knew who Max was. Bruce wasn't really shocked by it, it fit in too perfectly with his other theories to not be expected – however he was upset that Max had gotten caught up in all this. He should never have allowed her into the suit, now he had placed her in the crossfire just like Terry and Matt. She was a target now, because they knew her name, knew she was involved.

That was more danger than a teenager should ever be in. And yet again it was entirely his fault.

… "_Don't look so surprised, dear. I'm good at what I do, and what I do is keep secrets." …"nothing passes my lips, promise. And that goes for __**Mister Wayne**__ too, __**since you're already listening**__. _**I won't say a word if you won't."**

The last part had been aimed at him, and him alone. It was easy to assume it was about his name, his secret – that like Max, Xavier was willing to let the identity of the original Batman go unrevealed. But Bruce knew that wasn't the case, Xavier had been talking about the second letter. If Bruce didn't tell anyone that Terry was his son, then Xavier wouldn't either. Had the man told Terry? Or had he kept Bruce's secret silent too? That was one thing about chasing psychopaths that he didn't miss, the constant thinking over their motives and methods. Constantly questioning what they were going to do next or what they were capable of.

And them testing what _he_ was capable of.

What Batman would and wouldn't do. _Wouldn't _was the shorter list honestly. _Would_ was very much open to interpretation.

Like throwing a suspect off a forty stories building, for instance, had probable not been what Xavier had been expecting from Maxine. Bruce and Dick certainly hadn't been expecting it and for a terrifying second, Bruce had wondered if he had really lost his touch and read Maxine completely wrong. Then Max had caught Xavier and completely unbalanced the man with a few more witty words.

He wasn't sure if he should be proud at Maxine's improvisations, or absolutely furious with her. At the very least, Dick appeared just as ticked off at the Witch Doctor as Max had been – the doctor's words had cut deep. It had taken Bruce as few seconds to shake off the words, because for a few seconds those words felt very real. After everything his students and children had gone through, how could Xavier's words not fail to hit a nerve? … "_**How many more need to die before he gives up?"…**_What had Bruce done to Max to make a normal teenage girl contemplate murder?

But Maxine wasn't a killer and Bruce didn't believe that she had it in her to ever be a killer.

…"_I like what I see just fine"… "What do you think, Doctor, anymore observations?"_

Bruce almost, _almost_, smiled. Max hadn't felt the need to defend her actions, neither to Xavier nor in the end to Bruce. Whether the girl realised it or not, she had dealt Xavier a harsh blow but not just resisting his games but countering effectively while appearing unbothered by them.

Max had potential. Like Terry did. They could be great one day. Especially together.

"Bruce," Dick said quietly, dropping his voice low enough to not be overheard. His tablet was tucked under his arm and his son was playing anxiously with his Bluetooth – or at least as anxiously as any Bat could act. Dick was always a rather expressive person.

"Dick," Bruce acknowledged him with a nod, noticing had Maxine's voice had dropped out of his earpiece. He could still hear Tim and Stephanie but Maxine's communications had dropped leaving only static interference on her part.

"Stephanie, where's Max's link?" Bruce asked, lowering his voice.

There was a small burst of static, "No idea, she signalled me to pick Xavier up already, so I don't think there's anything wrong but I'm not getting a response. Issues with equipment?" The last was aimed at Tim replied with a negative on equipment.

Bruce could almost imagine his other son shrugging, "Asked her when you get there." Tim offered.

"She isn't here Tim, she's already left – did Xavier say something?" There was a little bit of concern in Stephanie's voice, also a bit of hard breathing but since she had volunteered to cover Max that might be due to the running about. Stephanie wasn't really old by any means, but years of 'light' (for a Bat) physical exercise didn't prepare one for a full throttle day out in Gotham.

There was the faint sound of rapid typing, "No, she returning to Wayne-Power's HQ. Maybe she wants to speak to Chang?"

"Get an audio link now." Bruce ordered, before dialling down the volume on his headset and turned his attention to Dick. There was faint concern on his son's face.

Leaning against the window so he could face his adopted father without the man turning around, Dick carried on, "Barbara's ETA fifteen minutes. She's still waiting on Sam getting the order signed but the judge is looking at it now."

Bruce nodded again, "Paperwork complete?"

"Nope," Dick popped his 'p' like he was still Robin, "Chang's very out of it, he just keeps staring at the table and snapping at his assistants. Think he knows the games up?"

Bruce tilted his head to face his eldest son, Dick reminded him so much of Terry sometimes. They both enjoyed talking for one thing and had a strange sense of humour even by Gotham standards. Which he had been told was exceptionally morbid. Or was it Terry that reminded him of Dick?

"I think Chang knew this was over the moment he walked in there, there's no way he can cover this up. So the question is, if Chang can't cover this up and the deal falls through regardless, what did he stand to gain in the first place?" Bruce turned back to the Gotham sky line stretching out before him. It was different to the one he'd known as a child, and different to the one he'd known as a younger man but Gotham at heart was still the same corrupt seductress she had always been. Both nothing and yet everything had changed.

"Nothing," Dick answered instantly, "he gains nothing from this at the moment. So Chang isn't behind all this? Unless he was relying on his daughter to stay quiet."

Bruce's face darkened, oh no Chang wasn't the mastermind behind this but the man had risked the lives of two innocent boys – his _sons_ – out of greed, not to mention hurting his own daughter. He might not be pulling the strings but that didn't make Chang innocent by any stretch. "Chang was still involved in Terry and Matt's kidnapping, – and if there is so much as a hair out of place…"

Dick shivered slightly. He recognised the dark tone in Bruce's voice, old or not, he was still the Dark Knight of Gotham– and still as overprotective of his children as he was of his city. If Terry and Matt were hurt, Chang, Xavier and anyone else involved was going to wish Batman killed, so that the hell on earth he'd put them through could end. People tended to forget that Batman wasn't _unwilling_ to do a lot of things as long as they didn't directly kill. You'd be surprised what you can live through.

"Tim's looking through the information that Chang's girl handed in; he says it may take some time, _apparently_ there's a lot there. The police are looking to start raiding sites but that's taking even longer since they need search warrants…" Dick trailed off. Everything was taking too much time; they had no idea if Terry and Matt were even alive or uninjured. They needed to find them now. They needed help. "If we asked the League…"

"No." Bruce ran a tired hand over his face, "No. If we bring the league in, we'll be blowing this further out of control."

"But Bruce –"

"No Dick, we're not involving the League."

The glare on Dick's face spoke of all the frustration and angry his son felt when Bruce was being his 'typical self-advising, mastermind who didn't trust anyone around him'. It wasn't that, and Bruce didn't want to go back to being the person who drove his family away, since he was trying bloody hard to not be that person anyway.

"– at the moment, it's just the police and Gotham interested in finding Terry. If we bring the League in, immediately that makes it national and international news – everyone clambering to know why the League's involved, what happened and who Terry and Matt are. We can't risk that kind of exposure."

Frowning deeply, Dick watched Chang snap viciously at one of his assistants who recoiled. "I understand Bruce, but if we go with what we've got… what if we're too late? Between us, the police and the League we could cover twice as much ground…"

"And the boys could be at none of the places on Mairyn's list." Bruce snapped, "We'd be wasting time, resources and tipping the kidnappers off that Terry and Matt are more valuable that they thought. Along with any other criminal watching the League's actions. We are not involving the League." _Not yet._

Bruce turned back to the window, dismissing the rest of Dick's argument. Dick bit down on his lip hard, since the words building up on them were neither kind nor polite before he swallowed and counted to fifty.

"Then asked Chang, the longer we wait for Barbs to get Chang into official police custody is longer the others have to hunt the boys' blind. I say we talk to him now."

Bruce sighed, "Unfortunately we have nothing to hold over him, officially, yet. If we push now, Chang will just run." And Barbara had already warned Bruce he wasn't allowed to hold Chang off a building to get answers. Maybe Bruce could ask Max….

For some reason, Dick doubted Chang would make it out the room if he did run but he dropped it.

"Do you want me to get and see if I can help Tim? Unless you want me here," Dick asked, turning down the volume on his piece as Tim and Stephanie were having a bit of an argument over which method of securing the Witch Doctor was better. It was pointless but everyone was stressed. Those two did their best when they were fighting. Especially each other. Bruce waved a hand around, "The room's covered by security."

"Who have orders not to let anyone but the police in and no one but us out?" A small, nostalgic smile flitted across Dick's face, "I'll go help Tim. See if I can't get through to Max."

Nodding Bruce turned around and made his way over to the groups of couches where Chang was currently sulking. Dick tucked his table more securely into his brief case, before grabbing his jacket and leaving. Bruce noticed Dick nod rather sombrely to the man standing guard at the doors. The man was of Eastern descent, a plain regular face with a bored expression as he nodded back.

Maybe Bruce was really getting old, because he couldn't remember the man's name. He made a point to know the names of all the employees he would come into contact with and they're backgrounds, and while he was sure he _knew _this man, his name avoided him. The guard closed and secured the door after Dick disappeared out of it. Checking his watch, Bruce estimated that if Maxine was still heading back to Wayne-Power Enterprise, he wouldn't have long to wait for either her or Barbara.

Running his hand over his cane, Bruce settled on the couch across from Chang, ignoring the warning looking the man's hassled assistants were sending his way. So he couldn't throw Chang off of Wayne Tower, that didn't mean he couldn't talk to the man. Talking was what _normal_ people did after all.

"So Mr Chang, what are you plans for now on?" Bruce started off pleasantly, the tone of a modest and yet friendly colleague. His face however didn't move into a smile or change from anything but the cold, dark frown that regularly cowered powerful men and women. Even now.

One of Chang's assistants coughed and glared pointedly at Bruce, as if she wanted to point out loudly that Chang wasn't in the mood to talk and she wasn't in the mood to get shouted at again. But the glare vanished when Bruce settled his frown on her and flicked his eyebrows up as if to say 'do you know _**who**_ you are **shushing**?'. The woman flinched back, falling silent and made herself busy looking through the paperwork.

Chang didn't responded; his fingers were absently loosening and then tightening his tie over and over.

"Mr Chang," Bruce repeated, dropping the friendly tone, "_Chang._"

The man's head rose slowly, like he had only just noticed Bruce. The man in front of him wasn't the man Bruce had first been introduced to only a few days ago, Chang had changed. The obsessive perfectionism in his appearance and manner had vanished and while the man was still impeccably dressed; the attention to detail was gone. Chang's tie was lose, his cuffs undone, his collar uneven – Chang's hair was dislodged from its gelled place by the man running a hand through it constantly and his bloodshot eyes had purple bags under them.

Chang looked like he was falling apart and didn't know what to do. His lip thinned slightly as he stared at Bruce, and the older Bat could have sworn there was resentment and anger hiding behind defeat in the man's eyes. It was the first flick of coherency since Chang's phone call earlier.

"M-Mr Wayne," Chang echoed emptily, releasing his tie in favour of his cufflinks. Bruce nodded slowly, not allowing Chang to break the staring match between them.

Chang's fingers flex compulsively over his wrist and his hand run up and down his arm furiously. "I guess this is the end then." The man answered.

Bruce's eyes didn't wavered, "I don't know what you mean."

Chang's lip curled up into a cruel smile, mocking, "Come on Wayne, you're not fooling anyone. We all know what happening here, we all know that the police are on their way – we all know I'm _ruined_!" Chang's voice rose to a shout, startling his assistants into a hysterical titter. Bruce didn't start or flinch or react at all. He just stared into the angry eyes of Wen-shen Chang.

"Where are the boys?"

The assistants, thankfully, fell silent. The older man dismissed their stares as they backed off – the only people who mattered here were Chang and his missing sons. Chang stilled and for the first time that day regained some of his skilful composure. His face settled into a disinterested look, a snobby superiority returning despite his harried appearance.

"I have no idea. And I don't care." In his eyes however there was a spiteful joy, as small as it may be. Bruce's fingers dug so tightly into the cane the wood creaked slightly in protest.

Chang wasn't finished, "I really don't. McGinnis? Why should I care? What's the brat to me? _Nothing but trouble_. This? This mess," the man gestured wildly about the room, easily at his most animated since Bruce had met him. Something _snapped_ behind Chang's eyes, "_It's all their fault_. _They_ changed everything. They've _ruined me_ and it's all _their_ fault. They just couldn't be like normal people and be quiet? No, and Xavier _just_ couldn't keep his twisted hand to himself!"

Chang leapt to his feet, looking quite out of his mind, "_Xavier_ wanted to play and_ Xavier_ had ideas. _The Witch Doctor_ couldn't keep out of it, he _had_ to send a note, He _had_ to leave evidence and he _had_ to set me up!" Chang's voice rose to a crescendo of repressed rage, "Can't anyone do what they're meant to do in this _god blasted city_?! I wouldn't be surprised if you were involved as well, Wayne, setting me up to fall. Those boys were almost too good, too obvious to be real."

The man scoffed loudly, "_The bastard sons of Bruce Wayne,_ now who could resist?" His eyes bore down at Bruce, glinting like Chang thought he was going to get the last laugh here. Bruce's inside were twisted, wound up tight, and violent images flashed around his mind temptingly – he wanted to hurt Chang, had for quite some time. But now? Standing still in the face of Chang's insulting facade, _pretending_ had been agonising. Listening to the man rant about what he had done to Terry and Matt, and blaming everyone including his sons but not himself for what happened? That was too much.

"I don't know where the boys are; frankly I hope they're either dying or dead. I do hope, _Mr Wayne, _that you **never** find them_. _Now wouldn't that be nice?" Chang sneered unhinged.

Looking into the eyes of the man who kidnapped his sons, leading to their possible torture and murder, how could anyone blame him if Chang wound up dead? What DA would charge and what jury would convict?

Bruce moved slowly, for once not due to age or appearances, but more for the look on Chang's face when the seventy-something, frail old man changed before him, until he was towering over Chang. His eyes still refused to break contact with Chang as they froze and Chang didn't need to be able to read minds for every single one of Bruce's deepest intentions to unfurl darkly before him. Chang paled till he trembled like a mouse before prey. But that wasn't enough. There was still disgusting self-pity on the man's face, twisted anger in his eyes and Bruce had every intention of knocking that bloodily off of –

"Mr Wayne!" A shrill scream didn't mean anything. Yet.

The boom the accompanied the doors to the room being blown off, did mean something. And something that was extremely_ immediate_. Instinct wasn't something Bruce had really homed so much as rewritten to his own perfectionist standard during his life; age had taken much but it hadn't taken that. So as soon as his instincts registered danger, his body responded by diving behind the couch, despite the split second desire to carry on and brutalise Chang _first_.

It was a good thing because the piercing screams of the assistants were silenced by the roaring sound of gun fire. They had been too far away from Bruce to dream of reaching them, and cursing the old man hoped they were only hurt, not dead. Chang bellowed in shocked fear as he too dropped to the floor, hands flying up to protect himself.

Swiftly Bruce pulled his communicator out and, muting it, carefully kicked it under a nearby table. He then moved so that the couch was still between him and the armed men calmly entering his conference lounge. The guards were slumped against the doors, unmoving and experience told Bruce they were probably dead. All of them.

"Mr Chang! On your feet!"

The armed assailants spread out, settling into the room with practice, covering all the doors and windows with heavy duty weaponry. One man, covered in protective armour, removed his goggles and gestured in a thick Hispanic accented voice to Chang. There were no more than ten assailants in the room, assuming there were no more posted to guard the room outside – two covering the singed door and three covering the windows. One swept the room for sensors, while another checked the bleeding assistants unmoving on the floor. The rest focused on their attention of Bruce and Chang.

Bruce was pulled to his feet by two assailants and around the couch, the same time as Chang was dragged swearing off the floor. Chang, all reason and dignity gone in the sight of his assistants on the floor bleeding and the attackers smiling down a gun barrel at him, simply lost it. The man started shouting and ranting hysterically, altering between 'you can't do this!' and 'Please don't kill me!'. Bruce wanted to cross the room and shut the corrupt businessman up with a well-deserved punch. How pathetic.

Cocking his gun, the leading attacker appeared to agree with the sentiment.

"Wen-shen Chang?" The man asked as Chang tried, and failed, to pull free from the man holding him.

"Doctor Xavier sends his regards and his apologises that this can't be done in person – apparently he's terminating your 'acquaintance'." The leader repeated mockingly, appearing to enjoy the look on Chang's face.

"What about Wayne? Take him, he's worth so much more than me. Won't Xavier want Wayne too?" Chang plead.

The leader rolled his eyes as he looked up and down the 'frail' old man confidently, "What makes you think we'll not take him after we've wasted you?" The leader shot back at Chang with a mean spirited grin.

Bruce grimaced, deliberated letting a pained expression come over his face. He grabbed the back of the chair, one hand flying up to cover his heart. One of the attackers released his shoulders in surprise and Bruce was able to fall more over the chair, risking a glance out of the window. Perfect.

"Joe…" The man let out in concern, eyeing the painful expression on Bruce's face.

The leader – 'Joe' – snarled at him to shut up, eyes lingering on the older man in concern himself. "It doesn't matter if the old codger gives up the ghost here or not. We'll just be putting him out of his misery. Guess he doesn't have his kid's spirit." Joe nodded to the other guard as he turned back to a sweating Chang, who was gazing at Bruce in abject horror. Clearly, Chan didn't appreciate his bargaining chip having a heart attack.

"Please, please don't kill me. I have money; I'll pay you anything, anything you want! I have a daughter; she's beautiful – she's all yours if you let me go. You can do anything you want to her." Chang fell to the floor at Joe's feet. Beneath the groaning pain, Bruce sent Chang a disgusted look. Not that he was shocked Chang would sell his own daughter, but to hear a man offer his own teenage daughter's virtue in exchange for his own miserable life was still grotesque.

Even Joe looked revolted at Chang, "Thanks dreg but not my sort of thing. I just like to kill people, see?" He aim the gun.

Bruce dropped to the ground, letting out a small cry of pain that had his attackers leaning in to grab him. Before the men's hands could even brush his shoulders, he kicked at their knees sending them to the ground and dislocating them with enough force. They were disarmed before they realised it.

Moving quicker that a 'dying' old man could reasonably be expected to, Bruce twirled his cane between his fingers, cracking it off the skull of a nearby assailant and slamming it into the gut of another. He knocked them out with two japs at their unprotected pressure points. The others were too stunned by the show of skill to do much – _over armed amateurs_.

Starting Joe snarled, "Spry old git!" The man fired his gun but Bruce wasn't there to be shot, "So that's were your kid learnt it. Let's see if you scream like he did." Joe fired again and Bruce ducked under the couch, the poor couch ending up bullet ridden.

Right on time.

The others were all turned to face him, but before they could recover and do more than gasp in impressed shock, the window exploded inwards.

Glass showered down on the men, the force making everyone stagger backwards and one man was knocked clear of his feet and into a wall. Shouting the men stared about bewildered, guns armed – there was nothing there. Rolling over Bruce grimaced in genuine pain this time, his shoulder throbbing where he landed on it.

It was nice to see Max had worked out the camouflage feature on her own.

The invisibility flickered out just in time for the would-be assassins to caught Batman ploughing his fist into the nearest attacker, before round house kicking the man down. Then the guns went off. It was hard for Bruce to stay down on the ground and out of the literal line of fire when his heart jumped into his throat with fear for Maxine's safety. Logically, he knew that the suit would protect her from the worse of the fire and that Maxine was _decently_ skilled in self-defence and fighting, a lot passed on from Terry himself. That still didn't make it easier to be face with a relatively untrained girl dropping herself straight into the middle of a heavily armed fire fight at his urging. He hadn't intended for this. God he was an old fool to be making mistakes like this again!

But Bruce was the master of making tough decisions, and he pushed the instinctive fear for Max's safety aside and focused on the immediate needs of the situations. Barbara and Dick would be arriving with backup soon, if the explosions hadn't alerted them, then the still open link from his communicator certainly would. Max would just have to hold on till then.

Although, watching Max successfully evade being shot and tackle the attackers two at a time, Bruce had to admit she was doing alright all thing considered – she did have potential for field work after all.

Pushing himself to his knees and ignoring the throb of his unhappy body, Bruce sought out Chang. The other man was still on the floor, uncurling himself from a traumatised ball, watching wide eyed as Batman took down his attempted killers. But as the attention of the assassins was focused on the vigilante on the other side of the room, Bruce could see the self-preserving instincts that Chang possessed in great quantities shake off the shock and home in on the unguarded exit.

The man was quick, quicker that Bruce had expected when he jumped to his feet and ran out the room. Swearing, Bruce pushed his body up and after him, slamming his cane into the back of an unsuspecting Joe on the way out. There was _no way _Chang was getting out of this unscathed or without handcuffs.

Fleeing down the hall, Chang didn't even make it to the end before he was roughly grabbed from behind and slammed up against the wall. Blinking, the businessmen gawked at the furious Bruce Wayne holding him there.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" Chang screamed, "We need to get OUT OF HERE! Before they KILL US!"

Bruce's glare was something a great many people respected and even more were cowered by – the murderous, shadow cast over his face now was that glare times by the rage and contempt he had for the cowardly, greedy man in front of him, and doubled by the pain this man had caused his family. It was a truly demonic look.

He was an elderly man, but as his hand slipped around Chang's throat, the strength there was more than enough to crush his windpipe easily. Chang's eyes widened in terror as he realised that Bruce greatly desired to kill him, right there and then – and could.

"…please…please don't!" The man sobbed.

Bruce's face didn't twitch, impassive to the trembling waste of humanity's pleas, "Where. Are. My. Sons?" The growl wasn't human. In fact the expression darkening Bruce's face wouldn't have been out of place on the demon currently tearing through the killers in the room at the end of the hall. Both men were deaf to the gunshots and screaming coming from there. For now, they were irrelevant.

Tears ran down Chang's face, "I don't know! I swear, I don't know!"

The grip tightened as Chang spluttered, hands desperately trying to pry Bruce's iron grip off, "That's not the answer I want."

"I-I don't know, oh g-god! X-Xavier never told me, I didn't ask. I don't know," Chang sobbed, "please don't kill me!"

For a second, Bruce wanted too. Almost more than anything else he wanted to squeeze Chang's throat till it snapped and the disgusting rat in front of him slumped to the ground. For everything Chang had done; the people he had hurt out of greed, the children he'd abused out of indifference and for everything that Terry and Matt had gone through because of him – It would be fitting vengeance to see Chang die.

But Bruce didn't kill him, as satisfying as it would be. Because killing Chang wasn't going to bring those people back and undo the damage Chang had done. That wasn't going to bring his sons home safe and sound. Bruce didn't kill, but that didn't mean he didn't want to.

Or he didn't dream of it. Terry wouldn't want Chang dead. More than anything, Terry wouldn't want Chang dead. He really was far too good like that. Loosening his grip slightly, Bruce pressed the pressure point on Chang's neck hard enough to cause the man's eyes to roll back and he fell limp against the wall.

Bruce let go. His hand trembled slightly from exertion and maybe from the emotions coursing through his chest. His breath was coming in hard, too hard and his face felt flushed. Resting a hand over his heart, Bruce fell against the wall and slid down next to Chang. His heart was racing painfully, trying to burst out. How ironic, to have faked a heart attack and ended up being at risk of having one.

He was aware, vaguely, of the hall suddenly becoming full of armed security and police officers, some of whom stopped concerned at his and Chang's side. He was conscious of Dick, face full of panic and fear, crouching by his side and taking the difficult to open bottle of pills out of his shaking hand before handing him the ones he needed. He was able to calm down and get his racing heart under control enough to see Barbara, in all her Police Commissioner glory, return to his side after Major Crimes arrested the unconscious or disarmed assassins. Batman, gone.

The woman waved for a couple of officers to deal with Chang and more tenderly than she had in years, helped Bruce to his feet and into a nearby office. He hated it. He hated the fear and pity on their faces when they looked at him, the Great Batman brought low by a broken heart. The unnerved expressions on their faces at the sight of their untouchable mentor being so painfully human. This was why he didn't like them being around, why he didn't let anyone visit, why he pushed them away.

Over time, he had come to tolerate Terry – and by extension Max – seeing him like this, but Dick? Barbara? Anyone who knew what he once was? That was more than he could stand.

"Bruce, you okay?" Barbara asked, ignoring the furious gesture Bruce made for her to let go of him as he collapsed into a seat.

"I'm fine. Max?" He demanded gruffly at the slight haze behind Barbara. Max switched off the camouflage just in time for Dick to catch her. Leaning heavily on the older man, 'Batman' allowed herself to be placed in a seat near Bruce. The three older Bats examined the girl, and all suppress a wince.

Max was a mess. Thankfully, nothing looked too life threatening but as Max pulled the mask off with a shaking hand, the bright black eye she had and bruised jaw were probably the least of her injuries. The suit had done its job and most of the gunshots had been repelled, the tears and rips in the suit were mostly superficial. It was the way Max awkwardly moved her leg, trying to keep pressure off her hip that was concerning and the badly bleeding gash in her arm or the way her other leg looked rather limp.

The girl was grinning wildly through the pain. "Well that wasn't too bad," she crowed quietly, flinching when Dick lifted her arm to get a closer look at the deep cut.

Suppressing his own flinch, Bruce sat up a little straighter, "What happened?" he demanded breathlessly.

Max struggled, "My radio cut off on the way over, someone was blanketing my transmissions. I tried to radio it in, Xavier had arranged this hit on both of you but I couldn't get through. I didn't want to waste time with Steph encase she was blocked too. I…I didn't want to be too late," the girl admitted hesitantly, not sure if rushing over had been the right thing to do or not. The scary image of Bruce falling to ground just as she was arriving had scared her more than she wanted to think about – she had been sure for a minute that she had failed Wayne alongside Terry and Matt. She didn't know if she could handle losing anyone else now.

"You did the right thing," Dick assured her, patting her shoulder soothingly, "You helped save Bruce." The once-Nightwing's eyes flashed over to his adopted father's with amusement in them. Bruce just grunted.

"You… you did well, Max. Chang _claims_ to not know anything about where Terry or Matt are, so Xavier is our next target." Bruce shifted, ignoring the discomfort sitting so heavily on his chest.

Barbara's scowl darkened considerable at the mention of Chang; she and the rest of the Bats had heard Chang's rant and they had all shared a similar desire to beat the disgusting man within an inch of his life. "Are you sure Chang doesn't know anything?"

The look on Bruce's face left no room for disputes, "Yes."

Shivering the others turned away, silently agreeing that Xavier was next. Sliding an arm around Max, Dick helped her to her feet, holding on until he was sure she wasn't going to collapse the second he let go. She swayed slightly but remained on her feet. Flicking her invisibility back on, Max accompanied Dick out the room and, discreetly, up to Bruce's office where there was a spare stash of clothes for her to change into. After that, Max would be escorted out of Wayne-Powers in plainclothes and to the manor for a quick patch up and to get to work with Tim.

Sharing a look, Barbara and Bruce drew their dwindling strength to face the inquisition lying in wait just outside the door.


	16. Chapter 16

Okay, so next chapter and it so happens to be my birthday! Nearly there!

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Chapter 16

(Monday late afternoon)

Mairyn decided she didn't like police stations. And that opinion wasn't predisposed to change anytime soon, if at all.

Major Crime was a bursting squad room at the best of times, right now it appeared as if a hurricane or another earthquake had hit the room, because there were random bits of papers or lost data pads covering every surface and the floor. Officers were furiously typing away at computers, shouting information across to each other or grabbing notepads and jackets as they ran out of the room with fresh commands. And sitting on a chair next to Commissioner Gordon's office, Mairyn had both a front row seat to the chaotic order of the Gotham City Police Force and a seat trapped in the middle of it all.

It felt like every other second, another officer would bustle by her either into or out of the office, to which the Commissioner had only recently returned. Gordon had been arresting her father, Mairyn had been told, and ended up in the middle of a fight between Batman and a bunch of assassins. Her father and Mr Wayne were both alive and well, though Wayne had ended up in a raging snark fight with the Commissioner about refusing to go to hospital for a check-up after being injured.

Wayne won and the Police force was still gaping in awe apparently. Or at least from the gossip she had overheard from a Detective Alcana, who couldn't believe anyone could beat the Commissioner in a verbal spat – not many had the nerve to talk back to Gordon in the first place. And having spoken to the woman briefly herself, Mairyn feverishly agreed with sentiment that Commissioner Barbara Gordon was no push over. Neither was Wayne though, as good a man as he was.

But when Gordon had took the information Mairyn had handed in, and after grilling Mairyn to within an inch of the girl's sanity, the activity in the squad room reached a crescendo. Yet it felt slow. Maybe it was because all Mairyn had been permitted to do was sit in a very uncomfortable seat for god knew how long, watching officers argue with district attorneys, with property owners or with each other.

But mostly she put the feeling of building panic and frustration down to the fact the GCPF weren't making much head way, search warrants were need to raid any properties and unfortunately, that meant going to a judge for each and every property because a judge had already ruled against dealing with them all in one warrant. Another point for the corrupt, 'open to donations', justice system of Gotham city, she had heard a tall Detective called Sanchez mutter sarcastically when the news broke. Then every officer in the room was handed two or three possible properties and a judge to go to beg for mercy from.

Hence the _slow_ness.

Leaning back, Mairyn listened closely to the conversation of the two of the nearest detectives in front of her, Bullock and Duquesne.

"He cracked yet?" The female detective asked, swallowing a mouthful of cold coffee without blinking.

Detective Ray Bullock blinked up at his colleague as he picked up some random data pad, "Who? Chang? Or the assailants?"

"The would-be assassins. Gordon's with Chang isn't she?" Duquesne asked.

Ray nodded, dropping the pad and picking up another, "Yeah, she was for a little while. Heard she's gone out into the field again, though. Lead assassin's name's Joseph Canals. Knows how to keep his mouth shut, I'll give him that. Not a sound, but his rap sheet's fairly long, so there is no way he's getting bail. Though, he hasn't asked for a lawyer yet…"

"So you didn't get anything? Anything at all?" Duquesne commented incredulously, which Mairyn could understand; Bullock was an intimidating man which was only partly due to his large build and perpetual frown. Joseph Canals must be either very confident that Bullock couldn't make good of any threats, or the man was even more scared of retributions from someone on the outside if he did open his mouth.

"Unfortunately, no; nix, zero, negative zilch. Not about what he was doing, his employer or anything about the kidnapped boys, although Gordon's got that recording from Wayne's Bluetooth, so we know he is _aware_ of where the boys are being kept – or _was_ at some point." Bullock stole Duquesne's cup off her desk, took a deep gulp, shivered in disgust and handed it back, "I'm going to try and tackle him again in a minute; I think he's our best bet."

Duquesne stretched a stood up, "If he's seen the boys that's more than anyone else has in the last few days." She picked up a data pad on Bullock's desk, handed it to the man before she disappeared into the swirling mass of people. Bullock simply blinked at the pad in his hands.

"Here," a uniformed officer with an elderly gentleman approached her, "You've to stay here, or you'll be sharing a cell with a charming killer, see?" The officer undid the handcuffs and handcuffed the man to a chair. The man nodded furiously, like the idea of being in a cell was more than he could take.

"Of course, Officer, I'll not move a muscle." The man assured the police officer.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing? Put him in the cells!" Bullock snapped, stomping over in a bad mood. The officer blinked and looked uncomfortable.

"I can't, Sir, there's no more space till some of the hit men are interviewed and moved to booking. There's literally nowhere to put him, cus all the rooms are being used for interrogations."

Bullock swore under his breath, before looking the older, handcuffed man up and down. He was a scholarly man, who looked very unnerved by everything that was going on around him, and was looking at Bullock with the most _'I'm an academic, this is really too much real life for me!_' look he had ever seen. The detective sighed.

"Fine, but anything happens, Gordon has your head not mine, got it?" The officer paled but nodded in agreement.

Bullock groaned before turning and heading off to the area containing the interrogation rooms; preparing, ready or not, to resume his own interview.

The man shifted around in his seat for a few minutes, trying to get comfortable in the hunch inducing, solemn recycled metal seat without putting too much pressure on his hands. Clearly, Mairyn could see that the man wasn't one of the assassins who had attempted to kill her father and Mr Wayne only a few hours ago; he looked nothing like the criminal sort at all. He was a plump sort of man, in his late forties' to early sixties', with a receding hairline and a lined face. He appeared just as out of place in the squad room as she did.

He looked familiar.

Mairyn quickly looked away. The man must have noticed her anyway, because he turned to her with a gentle, reassuring smile and said, "Hello, dear, I'm Doctor Logan Grey." It was a sentence that heavily implied a reply, but as Mairyn stared at her hands with discomfort, she wasn't sure she wanted to give an arrested man her name nor that she should.

"Mairyn." She settled on quietly.

Doctor Grey kept on smiling friendly; it was really disconcerting, "And what is a lovely young girl like you doing in a place like this?" He pointed awkwardly with his hands to the rest of the squad room.

She guessed he was simply trying to be nice and make conversation, but right now, Mairyn wasn't in the mood to be speaking to anyone, least of all a strange man she didn't know and had met while he was under arrest at a police station.

So while she knew she was being a little rude, she was also sure someone would forgive her if she came across as curt when she replied, "Someone tried to murder my father this morning."

The doctor's face fell, "Oh dear, I'm very sorry for you."

"Don't be. The only shame is that they didn't succeed." Mairyn's voice darkened and grew very cold –it was true, after all, and a part of Mairyn was sorry they hadn't succeeded before Batman arrived. Grey's face suddenly turned very pale and he looked like he was trying to shake off a very disturbing memory.

Mairyn pushed the angry thoughts in her head away and forced a small smile onto her face, "I'm afraid my dad's not a very nice man, sir. He deserves everything he has coming to him."

Grey returned the smile weakly, "W-well at least he'll be alive to see it." He said uneasily.

Mairyn sighed, "Yes, I just hope Terry and Matt are as well."

The doctor blinked, "Terry and Matt? Aren't those the two missing boys?"

"Yes, my father was involved in their disappearance, along with a Witch Doctor guy, I think. They're bringing him in," She said, fiddling with her bag and so pretended not to notice all the colour leave Grey's face, "That Witch Doctor man seems really dangerous from what I've heard the Detective said. I really hope the boys are okay, Terry was such a nice person." Mairyn sniffed slightly, rubbing her eyes while willing herself not to cry. Terry would be okay, he had to be okay.

"I-I hope so too. Were you close to the boys?" If the doctor had been uneasy before it was nothing compared to the guilt and grief lingering on his face now. There was a look upon his face that said he wasn't sure if he wanted to stay and comfort Mairyn, or flee from her sadness.

"Not really, I've only just met Terry and not Matt, but Terry was such a nice, friendly guy it's hard to not like him instantly. He has this – this aura around him that says he'll take care of you, not matter what. I know his poor mum's all torn up over this; their father died not so long ago you see, it's just them." She opened her bag and pulled out a tissue, making a show of rubbing her nose and more discreetly her eyes.

Grey looked away, the smile fading from his face quickly as he looked around the room. The guilt on his face was so blatant a child could have spotted it there, and talking about Terry and Matt only seemed to cause the man further grief.

_Good_, Mairyn thought darkly, because what she heard of Doctor Logan Grey told her he was just as guilty a party in the boys kidnapping as Wen-shen Chang was.

"If you don't mind my asking," She started, a polite innocent look on her face, "Why were you arrested, sir?"

Grey looked like he did mind, "W-well you see, I may have, well, helped a friend out in what turned out to be an illegal matter. However, knowing what I did now, I'm fully determined to help the police out to the best of my abilities. Little as that may be..." Grey spoke in a polished fashion, and it was unlucky to come across more as a rehearsed speech than an emotional declaration. Mairyn wasn't impressed.

"Um, dear, you mentioned that – that the W-_Witch Doctor_," he struggled with the name, disgust filling it like it was something foul and revolting, "Was being brought in. Has he been arrested?"

Mairyn shrugged, "I think so, I've been sitting here for hours and eavesdropping on the detectives is all I've had to do. I'm not allowed to leave until I'm told I can, and with my father under arrest it's not like I've got anywhere to be."

The older man nodded hastily, and the two of them turned to face the room, watching as the detectives and officers bustled about. Amazing how culpable and helpless a person could feel when faced with the determination of the law. '_Well, at least it wasn't Batman_,' Mairyn thought; she was fairly sure he would see her just as much a part of all of it as her father. Bruce Wayne did, she was sure. She'd be lucky if he didn't completely destroy her remaining family with his influence or press for her to be arrested and charged with accessory.

"They're not going to find them, are they?" Grey broke the silence, "I know Xavier, awfully well. If he doesn't want the boys to be found, they'll not be. We need a miracle; Batman himself couldn't find them."

Mairyn shook her head sombrely. Batman finding the McGinnis brothers wasn't the problem here; it was everyone else getting there in time that was the issue. "There's always hope, Doctor. That's what Batman is after all. All Gotham needs to do is hold herself together long enough for someone to help." A thoughtful look crossed Mairyn's face and she stood up quickly.

"Where are you going?" Grey asked, pulling on his handcuffs as Mairyn grabbed her coat and vanished beyond the doorway.

"Going to get help." She called back and was gone.

Grey sat back down; he wanted to go after the young teen and convince her to come back to the safety of the police station – Gotham was no safe place, especially not for young girls who could do nothing to protect themselves. Mairyn was only going to get herself hurt if she tried to find the boys herself. She had done enough by doing what she was told.

Detective Bullock exited the interrogation room, a dissatisfied frown on his face as he headed over to his desk. He nodded once to Grey, as if checking the man was still there but froze when he noticed Mairyn's empty seat.

"Where's Chang?" He demanded.

Grey instinctively held up his hands but they got caught in the cuffs, "Who?"

"The girl, Mairyn Chang, where's she gone?" her bag and coat were missing too.

"Oh, she just left. I told her not to go, but," he gestured at the cuffs, "I couldn't stop her."

"_Where_?!" The detective shouted, an '_oh god, I didn't lose her'_look on his face. Duquesne and Gordon would kill him if anything happened to the girl.

"To help." Was all Grey said.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

"That _hurts_, Tim!" Max snapped as Tim pulled tightly on the bandage he was wrapping around her arm. It took most of Max's restraint not to yank her throbbing arm out of his grip, Tim might be experienced at patching people up but he wasn't half rough at it.

"Well, try not to get cut next time," the old Bird scolded lightly, "Then it won't hurt."

He finished bandaging her arms and checked her over one last time, making sure he had got all the cuts and breaks. Max had never felt more like an old mummy than she did at the moment; she understood now why Terry hated being patched up – and it wasn't just due to the Batfamily's horrible bedside manner either. Every other inch of her body had light butterfly stitching or plasters slapped on, the occasional bandage here and there. And the strongest painkiller she had been allowed was ibuprofen. Unfortunately, that simply **_didn't cut it_**. _Everything_ ached.

"_'Next time'_. What makes you think there'll be a next time after I've been turned into someone's punching bag?" Max groaned, her hip was really sore from where one of the assassin's had kicked her, not to mention where she may have accidently hit it while crashing on the way to Wayne-Powers Tower. Luckily it wasn't broken or fractured, simply a bruised bone – unluckily that meant there was nothing they could do and she was just going to have to suffer through the pain until it was healed, and in the meantime half her hip looked similar to if it had died (like a lamb's leg in a butcher shop; bruised and mottled). On her _other_ leg, one of her nerve point had been hit and while the suit had prevented full loss of use in her leg, it resulted in a _really_ bad case of pins and needles and walking was… difficult; completely _ridiculous looking_ and difficult. Tim and Dick had laughed themselves into tears watching her try and manoeuvre with a foot that had the constitution of rubber.

She hoped that the smack Bruce delivered to the back of their heads hurt as much as it sounded like it did.

"Well, we need someone to help chase down leads. Xavier is on his way to the GCPF house, but it's taking time; he's under high security and they have to pick their routes carefully – we need someone following Xavier's trail until Babs can get a crack at him." Tim said as he handed Max an herbal remedy for the bruising on her face. It smelled like wet, cut grass and bits of dirty but she had seen Terry use it and the stuff should be marketed better, considering how perfectly it worked. As it was, most superheroes who _weren't_ invulnerable to harm swore by the stuff and practically horded it; Bruce and most of the Bats had a hand in developing it over the years.

"Right, right." She smeared the stuff on lightly, shivering at the cold sensation-ewww! "I'll start at Captio building and see if Xavier left anything behind. You search the system yet?"

Tim grinned, "What else did I have to do while you were dropping Xavier off of buildings? But there's nothing there, Xavier didn't really use the office at all. And there's nothing on the burn phone, except calls to Chang." He shrugged, "Xavier's very good at covering his tracks; too good. I think someone's been helping him." The once-Robin moved away from the medical wing and over the Cray, Max following him, still slightly unsteady but with growing ease as the feeling started to return to her leg. Not exactly the battle-sort of wound she was expecting and a right pain anyway.

Bruce was sitting at the Cray, his gnarled fingers moving over the keys with a swift familiarity that honestly made Max jealous. The Cray wasn't like any other computer she had ever seen before. It was truly one of a kind. She thought she might be in love, especially when she realised Tim had the same, love struck lust in his eyes when he looked the Cray too. Tim was as much a computer geek as she was.

"What do you think Bruce? Xavier got an unseen partner?" Tim stood next to Bruce, leaning over to study the screen. She wondered if it was just her, or if Bruce was looking even worse for wear than normal. Given the circumstance, it probably wasn't her – his skin had a slight waxy facade and the black bags under his eyes stood out against his pale skin. His hands shook slightly as he typed – when had Bruce last had some sleep? Maxine wasn't sure, he had been the one to wake her up that morning – though it was only morning in the sense it was after twelve and therefore Monday and not Sunday – and he had been awake when she had curled up for a nap… She couldn't remember the last time she had eaten, never mind Bruce. The old man wasn't as in as great a shape or health as he had been when he was younger, stretching himself this thin couldn't be good for him. If this didn't end soon, Bruce was going to land himself in hospital or risk another heart attack.

This needed to stop before the lot of them ran empty and crashed. Bruce nodded to her, as Tim studied something Bruce had pulled up on the screen. The old Bird squinted unhappily as he read down the page.

Stopping near them, Max started to pull the Batsuit on over her leggings and tank top, trying to perfect a way of doing it that would avoid aggravating her injuries but not result in her landing gracefully on her butt again. It wasn't easy and she was only partially successful; Tim had to help her into the bottom half by hold her shoulders to stop her overbalancing. If she and Terry got out of this in one piece, she was going to get him to show her how he had achieved the art of getting the suit on without hurting all over and looking like an ass in front of everyone. Seriously, Terry could get it on in under a minute, injured or not. And after Xavier, Max swore she'd make sure Terry was there to show her how.

"Possible. Someone has to be financing Xavier; they helped him get out of Arkham unnoticed. Question is, were they intending to involve Terry and Chang, or was that just Xavier?" The elderly man had multiple documents open on the screen, and he jumped between them as he cross referenced and chased down any possible cyber leads. "It's possible someone other than Chang is financing Xavier but I can't find any trace of Xavier anywhere else. Anywhere."

Tim nodded, "Yeah, but Xavier's got to be staying somewhere, eating – you know, living in general. Unless he's another zombie from beyond the grave of course, but I think we're reach our quota for the year in that. He's not appearing on the electronic copy of any lease or ownership records, so he's got to be underground. I'd say someone's hiding him, Chang or otherwise."

Now Maxine Gibson was a smart girl, more than a smart girl but even she had to push her tired brain to keep up. Enthusiasm only gets you so far when you're running on no sleep, minimum food and constant stressful burst of activity. "I'm guessing that's a bad thing?"

"Well," Tim shot her a look, "It means Xavier might have a hideout somewhere in Gotham that we'll never be able to trace him back to. Our best hope would be if it is Chang hiding him, then it will be a property on the list Chang's girl gave us. If not, unless Xavier or one of his thugs gives it up, we have little to no chance of finding them, unless we stumble over them by accident."

The old Robin nodded to the map of Old and Neo Gotham on one of the smaller screens, "Gotham's much bigger than you might think."

There was something terrifying about looking at a map of Gotham and realising that Terry and Matt could literally be anywhere, alive or… well, they could be anywhere. And there was a very real danger than she and the others could spend weeks, no, months searching for them and never find them.

"Guess we better start looking then?" Max said seriously, swallowing the despair lurking behind the map on the monitor. She pulled the mask over her face and adjusted it until it sat comfortable. She was getting far too used to this; it was insane.

"Yes, we'd better." Bruce muttered as he pulled up an updated list and copied it to the suit, "I've upload a list of the properties on your visor, the ones the police either haven't tried yet or are having difficulties securing search warrants for the buildings. We're start there, Steph and Dick are taking these ones," he flagged them on the list; "You'll start at the ones closed to Captio and work your way out. The channels will be open for updates."

Tim smiled gentle at her, "I'll be here if anything comes through or if you need us, 'kay Batman?"

Batman nodded once, and made his way over to the Batmoblie.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBbBb

(Monday evening)

There were many things Max could think up that could cover what she was experiencing right now; at the moment however the old 'completely exhausted' was the best fit for it.

Starting Thursday night all the way through to that evening, Max had been on a roller coaster of highs and lows. Mostly lows, like someone was trying to see how low she could go without collapsing into total despair. The past ninety-six hours had been the worse hours of her life easily, spent doing anything to stave off the lurking dark thoughts at the forefront of her mind. She had been running, almost more running away from the fear inside her than running towards Terry, and she'd barely stopped for a second. People said the Bats were more than human, going above and beyond what humans could endure with an effortless quality that shamed the most powerful Metahumans. If that was true, then Max wasn't as much of a Bat as she thought she was; because she was reaching her limit and didn't know if she could take a step more.

The world spun around in a disconcerting way, jumping in and out of consciousness. But to Max, it was more an annoying distraction than concerning fact, because she was _busy_. Too busy to eat, too busy to sleep, too busy to breathe for a second. Too busy to stop.

Batman stepped into a close, nestled between an entrance and large service pipes and settled against the wall to catch his breath. The dizziness passed after a few seconds and the flashing light behind her eyes faded away for the moment. She was tempted to take the mask off, just for a few precious seconds, to let the cold night air wake her up but she couldn't.

"…Max, you okay?" Tim asked concerned down the commlink, his voice a little fuzzy in her ear.

"Yeah. I'm good. J-just need a second." Batman stood up, readjusting the mask. He checked his wrist computer for the address of the next building.

"You sure? We can take a break if you need it. You've not slept for over twenty-four hours and you've not eaten much either. No one would blame you for needing a rest…"

Batman growled slightly, "I'm fine, Tim. I'll sleep and eat once we find Terry and Matt; we're too close to stop now."

"But –"

"No buts." He snapped, stepping out of the gaps and started down the small skywalk, keeping an eye out for anyone. "We find them first." And that was that.

The old Robin's amusement was as clear as his concern; Tim didn't see a reason to hide the fact he thought she was pushing herself harder than she needed to. Just like every other Bat. "Careful, you're starting too really sound like Batman."

Max didn't bother to reply to that, if she was acting like Batman then, well, good. They needed all the help they could get, and honestly, they desperately needed Batman right now. The next site on her list was a small storage warehouse, close by – it was owned by another of Chang's shadier, smaller companies he had bought but not added to Chang Enterprises main holdings. The majority of these companies had buildings across Bludhaven, Hub City and most of the real crime cities in America. That meant they had good lawyers, little paper work and money to bribe judges into being sympathetic to their _civil liberties._

She had covered a lot of ground tonight, both on foot and in the Batmoblie. Not as much as she would have liked, since it was taking time. Time she was worried they – Terry and Matt – didn't have. Steph and Dick were going just as slow, since they had to be even more careful than her. It was one thing to see Batman breaking into and searching a building; seeing two civilians, an ex-police officer and a psychiatrist from Arkham, breaking and entering was a little more difficult to explain away. They'd be no use to anyone sitting in a jail cell pending bail.

"I'm here," Batman reported as he gently landed on the rooftop next door, the building on the list was small and a bit run down but it shouldn't be too hard to hide two people inside. "I'll look around and get back to you."

Flicking the camouflage option to the suit on, she approached the building quietly across the neighbouring roof. Just as she was studying the layout, she noticed something the other buildings _hadn't_ had. The mythic Silverstarr climbing out of the window, her costume glimmering slightly in the pale evening light.

'_Now that's interesting_,' Max thought grimly tapping her visor. Immediately it changed, becoming clearer, like glass, and the computer inputs blinked away – and the haze of the new vigilante almost disappeared too. It appeared Silverstarr was using something technologically similar to the camouflage tech that the Batsuit used. She changed the visor back and Silverstarr reappeared. Fascinating, the invisibility only applied to the naked eyes, it was still perfectly visible to technology. Which might explain why there were so few eye witnesses to Silverstarr's movements. If the suit prevented her being seen but not captured on camera, then she was relatively free to travel around unnoticed.

'_But what are you up to now?'_ The Bat wondered as the new girl used her own gliders to launch herself up onto the same rooftop as Batman. She moved easily, so the Commish was right when she said the girl was trained and the suit, while it was no Batsuit, had a heck of a lot of tech that Max would love to take apart and put back together. Stepping softly to the side, so that the girl wouldn't run straight into her, assuming she didn't know Max was there, Max ran over her options. For Batman, she felt there were only a few.

Silverstarr was quick on her feet, springing across the roof lightly. Too bad she wasn't expecting the hand that caught her cape from behind and the knee that logged itself into her stomach. Winded, she hit the ground hard before she could comprehend anything, her invisibility blinking out. Silverstarr stared around in shock as she gasped for breath, searching for her surprise attacker. She got to her feet a little unsteadily, sinking into a fighting stance.

Batman returned the favour, switching off his invisibility and fixing the girl with a glare, "Going somewhere in a hurry are we? S – "

The girl instinctively swung at him, her fist forcing Batman to duck but he wasn't quick enough to avoid the quickly following round house kick. It landed on Max's bruised hip and Batman let out a hiss of pain, even as the suit blocked the worst of the force. Still smarted all the same.

Batman saw red, and grabbing Silverstarr's thrown fist, he twisted and threw the girl over his shoulder. For the second time in five minutes, Silverstarr hit the roof but this time much harder, debris kicking up around her. She jumped to her feet and blocked the strong jab Batman made at her neck, ducking under his reach. Her punch would at least bruise a normal man's ribs, but the suit hardened and blocked the blow. Dancing back again, Silverstarr grabbed an overhead support pole and swinging herself up, slammed her feet into Batman's chest.

This time the blow overbalanced him. Knocked backwards, Batman hit the ground hard, rolling with the momentum. But he was able to shot a batarang with an attached lasso before Silverstarr's feet touched the ground, aiming it just right. The girl shouted in surprised as the roped snapped around her waist and arms, restraining them before she had time to understand. Silverstarr hadn't been expecting her opponent to react so quickly and this time she stay down.

Yes, Silverstarr was definitely trained, but even Maxine could see some of the rookie mistakes the girl made, especially her inability to roll with the motions. It was blocking the flow of her recovery-to-defence and leaving openings for others, like Maxine herself, to exploit. Of course, Max was far more unused to such genuine all out brawls, so it wasn't like she was one to talk about rookie moves. The real Batman, Terry, would have handed this girl her ass in seconds if he had been there.

Stepping forwards gingerly, Max growled at the restrained unknown, "Nice moves, I don't think we're been introduced yet, though."

The new girl jumped in fright, and despite the mask, Max believed the girl's eyes were comically wide, "B-Batman?" As if the girl hadn't realised who she was fighting. Or hadn't expected to run into Batman when she was operating in his city.

"Yes," The harsh growl echoed unimpressed, Max channelled every bit of Bruce's 'not-impressed' attitude as she was able to. "What were you doing in there?" He nodded at the building behind her.

Silverstarr got to her feet shakily, her arms still tangled in the ropes, "Well, I'm looking for the McGinnis Brothers, same as you, I think." She looked down at the bounds and carried on a little sheepishly, "I'm sorry I hit you, I-I didn't realised who you were and you shocked me a bit."

Batman was unconvinced about Silverstarr's dubious skills, and so was Max for that matter. Silverstarr wasn't a normal civilian, that much was clear but she was no seasoned superhero either. Okay, so Max wasn't herself, but she'd been at least involved in it all for a while now. Silverstarr Max was much less sure of, she didn't know or trust the girl's motives and they didn't need another unknown player on the scene.

"What were you doing in there?" Batman repeated.

"I was searching it to see if the boys were there, it's empty though. I've been searching the buildings Chang has connections to all night, ever since you took down Xavier and Chang." Silverstarr said, fidgeting in her belt until she found the laser knife she had there. It took a bit more jiggling to get it into angle to cut. The girl sounded a little embarrassed but otherwise had calmed down enough to regain some composure.

"I followed Chang to Gotham; I've been trying to bring him down for a while now. Gathering evidence, and the like. He's a real piece of work, you know? I didn't want to – well," She nodded at her own costume, "Get suited up so soon but when the McGinnis boys disappeared I didn't feel like I could wait any longer. – Not of course that I think you can't handle it!" She stammered, "I mean you're Batman, but umm. Yeah. Sorry." The rope snapped and the girl held it loosely in her hands as she was freed of it.

For some reason Max felt she should be amused, and she was, but she was also annoyed by the girl standing in front of her. Max wondered quietly if this was what Bruce saw her as; annoyingly enthusiastic but otherwise a clueless kid, who didn't seem to realise the implications of the things she was getting involved with. She really hoped he didn't.

Silverstarr had to still be quite young, her whole countenance portrayed an eager to please newbie – she wouldn't live very long on her own, if she kept _that_ up. Max had realised that the hard way, she only hoped that wasn't going to end with Terry's death or worse. Max had grown up a lot since she first discovered Terry and Bruce's secret, and she was very well aware of both the true burden that it was and the high mortality rate that accompanied it.

This wasn't a game, not like the ones she and Mairyn had played together. This was life, and despite what some said, you only got one chance to live it the right way. Maxine had every intention of living it to as grand and bitter an old age as Bruce and Barbara had.

"Look, kid," Batman started, "This isn't safe. I know what kind of a man Chang is, and I also know what he does to the people who get in his way. You wouldn't stand a chance if you get into trouble and I don't have the time to spare to come and save your ass, assuming I get the opportunity to save you. Go home before you wind up dead."

Silverstarr froze, and Batman almost fancied he had shocked her.

"What?" The girl demanded.

"Go. Home." He growled, and somewhere she knew both Terry and Bruce would be feeling self-satisfied and amused at her passing on their often ignored advice.

And Silverstarr took it just as Maxine had.

"No!" The girl shouted, waving a hand about. "I can't just go home, and sit around waiting for you and the-the police to find them. They need help! My help! I know _exactly_ what will happen to them."

Batman wasn't moved by her words, "Are you psychic? Able to read the future? You have no way of knowing what your help _or lack thereof_ could do. I can tell it's only going to get you _killed_. I don't need that on my conscious. Or on my mind _tonight_." He told her unapologetically.

"_You're wrong_. I can't have those boys' deaths on my conscious either, I _can't_ just do nothing." Silverstarr dropped the batarang and rope, radiating frustration and desperation, "I know what Chang's like, and I know better than anyone what he does to people. H-he murdered my mum! I won't let Terry die too!"

She shouldn't have let that affect her, but against her will, Max could feel something inside her respond to Silverstarr's emotional outburst. Yes, the newbie was still just as likely to get herself killed than save Terry and Matt but it looked as if Silverstarr had invested herself too much in the case to back out now. Max herself, by definition, was too personally involved; all the Bats were since it was Terry who was missing. If Silverstarr was putting all her grief and angst over her mum's (supposed) murdered on saving Terry and Matt, then nothing Batman did or said was going to prevent her from at least trying to help them. Possibly right under his nose, if she was anything like Terry or Max.

That left Max with even fewer options to choose from with regards to Silverstarr – and she just knew Bruce and the Commish were going to blame her for everything. '_Might as well enjoy the suit while it lasts, Gibson,'_Max though grimly, _'Cus' you'll be lucky to see it again once they're through with you. Assuming they don't just take you into a dark corner of the cave and shoot you.'_

"Fine."

The newbie stopped again, "Huh?"

Batman's posture soooo didn't say defeat or resignation, "_Fine_. You can help, _but_ only on my conditions and guidance." Then his voice lowered and it was like the shadows on the roof were drawn to him, "Otherwise, I'm going to have to spend the rest of my night _hunting _you down and making sure you can't possibly wear the suit for a _very_ long time, _get me_?" The last bit was hissed threateningly, eyes narrowed into a very promising glare.

Silverstarr nodded hastily, sure that if she didn't she'd find out the very literal details of his threat and she _really_ didn't wanted to know. She guessed it would be very violent and painful, because Batman didn't look in a good mood already.

Searching his belt, he produced a small, one-way communicator and handed it to Silverstarr. "Keep this on and open at all time. You find anything, you call _me_ first. The buildings on the list in that direction," she gestured in the direction of the docks and warehouse area not far off, "Mostly haven't been searched and as most of Chang's criminal businesses use them as storage, warrants aren't forthcoming. Start there."

"Sir, yes, Sir!" Silverstarr saluted, accepting the earpiece.

Batman raised an eyebrow, "Well? Move it!"

The newbie vanished so quickly Max wouldn't have been totally shocked to discover she had a personalised teleported on her. But as she watched Silverstarr cover the rooftops towards the docks, she had to admire the energy she had to spare. Max was _exhausted_.

"You sure that was the smartest thing to do?" Tim broke radio silence to ask her.

Max shrugged, "You can track it, can't you?"

She could practically see the rather cunning smile breaking over the old Bird's face, "Of course I can."

"Well, that's one less rogue element to worry about then, isn't it? Beside, Barb's officers are canvassing some of those buildings; the police wouldn't be too far off if she is up to trouble." Max said tired, "I've got enough to think about without her, too."

"What I said earlier? I take it back. You already _are _a Bat."

* * *

So what you thinking?


	17. Chapter 17

Okay, so my internet crashed, then my computer crashed and Uni life happened, -.- but I'm here now!

* * *

Chapter 17

(Monday Evening)

"…you know, I don't think I missed this part of things." Stephanie said as she repressed a disgusted shiver as she noticed what looked (and smelled) like a rotting pile of human excrement. She covered her mouth with a hand and tried to not gag at the smell.

"Well, shit happens," Dick said innocently, a grin threatening to blossom on his face as he glanced in Steph's direction. She hurled a loose bit of half-decayed wood at his head but missed when he ducked down snorting. "Come on, Croc smelt worse after he'd been hiding in the sewers in the summer time. He didn't need to throw a punch to knock you out…."

"Now who's being immature?" Steph pointed out, carefully stepping over the…pile and desperately swallowing the bile in the back of her throat. The old subbasement extended in the labyrinth-like, never ending rooms that Under-Gotham was well known for. There could be a wild rave going on beneath their feet and they would never know it. Just like the good old days. She could have sworn she had been there before, and figured it might be because the basements had probably housed drugs or a smuggling ring at some point or another that she may have helped break in her youth. Seeing a particularly vicious looking blast mark on the wall and what may have been a half shattered rusted batarang, she made a note to run a check against the address/history of the place when this was all over.

Dick gave his former sister-ward (and now sister-in-law) a sympathetic look, "Just don't step in it. It'll eat your shoe whole with one bite." The next bit of wood hit his shoulder perfectly.

"Be quiet." A gruff voice ordered down their earpieces. The two once-Robins rolled their eyes in un-agreed unison at the demand. Like Stephanie Drake-Wayne nee Brown and Richard Grayson-Wayne had ever learned how to shut up – and despite his attitude, Bruce had never really tried to get them to stop.

"Did we ever shut up? It's one of my best qualities," Steph quipped, since she and Dick did, and always had, liked to talk. She found a kindling spirit in Terry with regards to that, the boy who talked the Joker to death. Bruce had to love listening to the boy on patrol.

"A man's allowed to hope." Was all Bruce gave his ex-wards. Of course he did, Steph thought amused, as she examined a suspicious looking stone wall.

Lip twitching upwards, Dick turned back to the matter at hand before his undeniable chatterbox of a companion could start, "I'm not seeing any entrances or chutes in this room either, Bruce."

Scanning the room with her torch one more time Steph had to agree, "I'm not seeing anything either and there's nothing on the scanners."

"Well, move on to the next on the list then," Bruce's dry bark was a little more … hostile than he normally was, even for him. However after the attack on Wayne Tower, as the media had already dubbed it, Bruce had developed into an intolerably grumpy old man. After Barbara and Dick had all but bullied him into 'resting' in the infirmary part of the cave, in exchange for relenting on seeing him visit the hospital for a check-up, Bruce had sunk into an especially foul, scathing mood. Given that he was at least 'resting' in the cave and so not putting too much undue stress on his body, the other Bats had decided to do what they had always done and pretend Bruce simply wasn't being a twat.

By 'resting', Bruce was simply sitting on one of the beds, a spare couple of computers set up around him, from where he was helping to coordinate Dick and Steph's search. They didn't think they would ever get anything better from him.

"Where next?" Steph asked Dick, moving over to his side and around the dusty crates and boxes than made up the subbasement storage facility on their list.

They had started off in the normal converted building's basement, with a few office-like cubicles and pretty low key packing equipment. The real storage was behind a door that accessed sublevel rooms, an old remnant of previous buildings that had either been built over or lost in the quake and weren't on any plans. They had searched for any signs of more 'lost' rooms that may have been blocked off or hidden but hadn't discovered any. That was the real issue with Old Gotham, so many things buried beneath her and you can never be sure what you would or won't find there. Remnant of old times getting in the way.

Dick told her the address as he typed it into his wrist computer. They crept toward the disabled window they used to get in, there wasn't much need to creep since the building was empty at this time of night but some habits are difficult to break. And ingrained for all the right reasons, it was better if things continued as if they had never been there.

"Think you can make it?" Dick teased as Stephanie expertly pulled herself up and through the high up window with the grace expected of a gymnast. Sure she was getting on in her years, and with her old injures that might as well be her fifties, but Steph had always kept fit and worked on her old moves. Great stress relief when she wanted to throttle one of her kids, or a colleague or a patient or, hell, _anyone_ at times. So she was fairly spry for an oldie.

Still, with his old hurt leg and many years on her, Dick managed to effortlessly make Steph feel like she needed to spend more time stretching, when he flawlessly vaulted out the window without stopping. Better than a gymnast, it was like a cheating contortionist, the way he bended was still beautiful and confounding.

"Damn it, Dick," Steph moaned, waving a hand at her brother's clueless look, "stopping making everything look so easy! You're an _old_ man, for the love of God."

Dick shrugged, "I teach gymnastics in my spare time, I like to practice what I preach."

"I noticed. Congrats on the regional's, by the way, Rory could go professional." She offered, dusting her clothes off. Rory was Dick's pride and joy as a student, and also his adopted son, as of very recently. He was spending the weekend with his elder brother if she recalled correctly as was her own eldest keeping an eye on the younger ones.

"We all could have gone professional," he pointed out, "from what Tim sent over, that Silverstarr girl has some fair skills of her own."

Moving over to Dick's car, Steph shrugged indifferently, "Appears so. But a lot of kids looked like they had some skills, didn't mean a lot in the end now did it?"

Dick settled a stern, 'now Stephanie…' look on her, one that was totally the Nightwing-leader of the Titans/Outsiders/Justice League/Big Brother she knew as a kid. "Depressing much? You, who always believed the best in people."

"I've ended up burying a lot of those kids, Dick. I remember every single one of them." She looked away, she wasn't that stubborn hopeful kid anymore, "I died myself, _remember_?"

It was Dick's turn to look away, memories flashing across his eyes with brief emotions – guilt, grief, anger. No, Dick hadn't forgotten that Stephanie had died once or how hard Leslie had fought to hide that, lying to even Bruce that Stephanie was gone and omitting that fact she had come back. Or that Jason had died as well and been returned to them. Bruce… yes, Dick was never going to forget what had happened to his so-called siblings, nor the other young heroes who hadn't been so lucky over the years.

Nor did the rebounding question of 'where were you when it happened?' that had haunted him for years. Where were you, when Jason needed you? Where were you when Stephanie needed you? Where were you when everyone was sure Batman had been killed? Why didn't you save them Dick?

_Why didn't you help Terry, too?_

He shook the dark thoughts off and saw clearly the ones flouting around the easily most optimistic of the Bats' head. "We'll find him, Steph. Both of them."

Steph bit her lip and smiled, her special 'it needs to be real' smile, "Of course we will, Dixie." And she got into the car.

Dick followed, slipping into the driver's seat and sent the command to the computer to take them to the next address. The car obeyed automatically, normally Dick preferred to drive himself, most his age group did if they could, but right now he wasn't in any shape to be driving the dark, winding roads of Old Lower Gotham and he was too distracted to even try.

"I was almost sure she was Max, you know? Babs had me convinced that Max was doing a little searching on her own, plus Max was always gone when Silverstarr was about." Stephanie broke the silence, slumping back in her seat, her humour gone. "I don't know, when I was thinking of Silverstarr, a small part of me really hoped it was Max and that, we could protect her or something, like Bruce used to do."

But it wasn't Max.

"I could have told you it wasn't her. She didn't…" he tried to think of way to describe just how he knew it wasn't Max out in the suit, like the way her body didn't tense when Silverstarr was involved. Or how her eyes still had that need to do something. Or how… "Max is just as lost as we all are. Though, I thought she handled Silverstarr very well."

"She took a risk, trusting someone we know nothing about." Bruce's unhappy face appeared on Dick's vid-screen.

"Eavesdropping again are we?" Dick joked.

"Stephanie never did learn how to turn her commlink off." Bruce answered, side stepping the question. Stephanie didn't blush, but she did feel mildly chagrined at Bruce for bringing up her constant inability to close her commlink off as Robin – of course, Bruce had always ignored her prattling, and for some reason refrained from pointing out it was still open at the time. Maybe he had liked the easy way of keeping tabs on her. Or maybe he liked her company even when she wasn't there.

"Thank you Bruce," she said, raising an eyebrow, "any more news from Max?" Unfortunately, Bruce and Tim hadn't had time to fix the communications blockage on the suit, simply relinked it to the Cray.

"Nothing from her. Or this Silverstarr."

"But naturally you're keeping an eye on her anyway." Dick didn't even bother to sound contemptuous about it; it was a logical and reasonable measure with an unknown in the picture. If the girl was green enough to accept a communicator and bug from someone she had just met, then she _needed_ someone watching her.

And if there was something more sinister beneath Silverstarr's intentions, then forewarned is forearmed.

"This girl needs someone to watch her," Steph agreed, "Rookie or rogue; I'd rather not risk Terry's life in finding out."

Bruce didn't say anything, and having known him so closely for many decades, neither Bats needed their mentor to say anything to know what he was thinking. Bruce never said anything, so they quickly learned to respect the silence and read it fluently.

Dick's hand ran over the steering wheel more out of habit, "We will find them," his voice didn't waver or flicker in conviction, "we will find them, and get them home safe and sound. This _isn't_ your fault."

"I've buried too many children to believe that, Dick." Stephanie had rarely known Bruce's voice to go so quiet or soft, but she had known it. Moments which were stumbled, awkward, intense and still strangely sincere in what Bruce was trying to say. Rare, and so much more treasured for it.

Dick didn't know what to say to that. It was true, and what could Dick offer his father that he hadn't already offered? If through sheer power of conviction, he could change the world and undo death, then the world they lived in would be vastly different. He was kin to some of the most stubborn, unwaveringly determined and frankly indomitable people in the world. Yet they were still only frail, emotionally uncertain humans in the end.

Even the Bats couldn't stop death. Or the past.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBb

The warehouse was empty of all but three people.

The sky outside the window had gone dark, the murky light of the day faded to a violent red night sky.

Exactly how many hours had past Matt wasn't sure, nor did he know what day it was. Locked underground with Xavier, minutes became hours and days into minutes without a distinguishing feature between them. For all Matt knew it could have been twenty-four hours (he seriously doubted) or a week, which scared him.

The ground was cold beneath him, the chill having long since seeped into his legs, making them numb. The rope around his feet had chafed his skin red and they were bleeding slightly, but Matt didn't really notice. His attention was split between his brother, who was almost comatose except for when his lips would occasionally move in an almost indistinctive whisper and that of his solo guard.

Night had advanced to set over Gotham, like a malevolent Eris lazily stretching out to watch her favourite epic tragedy. And left Matt and Terry with only the computer light of the machine kidnapper Jeff was taping away at.

Jeff was the only guard left, likely due to the stiff bandage wrapped around his knee and the crutches resting on the crate next to him. Or at least Matt assumed, having watched the armed guard stumble around the warehouse unhappily as the others suited up and left. Where and why the rest of the kidnappers had left was something Matt wondered about slightly, but the young McGinnis was more interested in the fact he had been left with only one, that he could tell, guard. An injured one at that and the boy wondered calculatingly how hard it would be to slip past him and away free. Except he couldn't take Terry, and Terry needed him.

Resting his tired head on his brother's chest, Matt listened to Terry's heart racing too fast, taking a little comfort in the sound. Terry was really unwell, Matt had realized; whatever the man had done had made Terry really ill. He didn't know what was worse; when Terry was rambling disjointedly, saying things that didn't have rhyme or reason behind it, twitching and convulsing in pain. Or this now. His fearfully pale skin was marred with vicious bruises and sluggish bloodstains and was only getting more lifeless as time passed. He looked as if he had died. The boy swore he could see something he thought was bone coming out of Terry's leg and his brother's arm sat a wrong angle. Terry needed help. And Matt was going to get it.

He couldn't afford to wait on Batman or anyone else rescuing them. Clearly, they weren't coming. Every now and then, his brother's eyes would flutter as he came close to consciousness, his lips would mouth endless words but then the nightmares would take hold again, dragging him back down into their depths. It terrified Matt.

The things Terry said didn't make sense at first, the rambling of madness but Matt had nothing better to do than sit and sooth his sick brother, listening closely. Matthew McGinnis was a very smart boy, smarter than his brother is some ways. Matt always did well academically with minimum effort, but like Terry, when Matt applied himself, then was no stopping him. In Matt's mind, it was like a jigsaw coming together, except the pieces weren't the same shapes and some were completely irrelevant.

He ran over everything he knew about his brother – everything Terry had said before, every small or ordinary thing he had ever seen, every bit of information – it was all push to the front of his mind and taken apart, reconfigured and either noted or discarded on what he found. It took time, but the picture that emerged in his mind was one Matt felt he couldn't fault. One Terry wouldn't be able to either, when he was better.

Matt knew help wasn't going to come, so he was just going to have to sort things out himself.

Jeff was standing not even a foot away, leaning heavily on the crate and off his leg, the one where Terry had dislocated it earlier. Whether it was an accident or not depended on who you asked really. Every now and then the man let out a low curse and shifted the pressure off his injured leg, followed by a furious glare at the two prone boys. Then he'd look away, disturbed by Matt's unwavering stare, his blue eyes prickling the back of Jeff's neck. It was like the young boy was staring straight into Jeff's soul and marring it.

The Hispanic man frowned deeply, wishing again he had gone with his partners earlier to remove Wen-shen Chang and Bruce Wayne from the situation. He had meant to go with them, but a dislocated leg meant he was stuck playing babysitter instead. They had been all too happy to deal with Chang and Wayne when Xavier asked; ever since they had snatched the McGinnis boys there had been a little too much favoured attention from the Commissioner's office. Barbara Gordon was one woman they knew better than to mess with.

Now his friends were languishing in jail cells and Xavier had fallen irritatingly silent. But Jeff had been left with one last task, then he intended to split and get as far from Gotham as money could get him, since his share of the 'commission' was still sitting in his off-shore account. But it was a task he was going to enjoy greatly.

Pay back was a bitch.

Jeff had taken a dislike the two privileged brats as soon as he had met them – the elder had planted a (lucky) kick and then dislocated Jeff's leg painfully. The younger was rather mouthy and reminded Jeff of his own snot nosed brother. He would like nothing better than to teach the two of them a lesson with a blunt object, like a pipe or - or a _crowbar_. There was one sitting only a few steps away after all. But he pushed the tempting thought aside for now. They'd be dead soon enough.

Turning back to the computer, he finished up processing and sending the information before typing the final commands in to it. While he finished up, he didn't notice Matt remove the loosened bindings from around his ankles, using the blood to slip it off.

Matt ducked behind the massive crate, hoping Jeff hadn't noticed his motions. His ears pricked for the slightest change, Matt crept towards the nearest box, using it as cover. Earlier in the day, with nothing to do but study the room, the boy had noted each of the entrances to the room and the exits. The windows for most parts were where the roof and walls met, over a story upwards and so too high to reach. The ones at the 'front' of the warehouse and to one side were much lower and easily accessible via the boxes piled up. They were visible as well. Matt just hoped the back door wasn't locked.

Focusing, Matt was halfway across the room before the kidnapper even noticed he was missing. The surprised roar the man made as he jumped up, putting painful pressure on his leg and almost crashed back down, sent Matt's heart leaping into his throat w. Blinking the liquid fear from his eyes, Matt broke into a run for the backdoor. There was a loud crash from the clearing in middle, but Matt didn't dare look back. His fingers were outstretched for the black emergency exit door.

His fingers and palms hit it with a sore sting but Matt didn't care. He slammed against the release bar and the door clicked. It didn't budge an inch. Panicking, Matt hit it again but the door was stuck. Or locked.

"No, nonono," The boy whimpered under his breath as the exit refused to open.

Stepping back, Matt cast about quickly. There was another door at the other end of the warehouse, but if it led out he didn't know.

"-Stupid twip. Where the hell are you?" Jeff shouted furious, "Come out _now_!"

Yeah, because Matt was totally going to do _that_. How stupid did the man think Matt was? The boy shook his head and started around the boxes, careful to stay out of sight. Getting to the door would be hard, since there was a break in the boxes that left Matt exposed. If he went across, the man would spot and chase him.

Eyes scanning the room, Matt wondered what Batman would have done. Then his eyes absently trace the crates leading up to the ones at the top. If he couldn't go in front, then how about over it? Sure there was a massive drop between the stacked up crates and the ground, but as long as it didn't fall, he should be fine.

He had to be.

Squaring his shoulders with a serious look, Matt clambered onto one of the crates, slowly making his way up. It was just like giant building blocks – really, really giant building blocks. Except all Matt would see in his head of the sweet he used to squish between the blocks, the way the goo inside would squelch over the blocks and…. Eew, bad thoughts.

It was really high up too, Matt realized when his stomach did a back flip. High enough that if he fell he'd do worse than break a leg. Unless he could….

"Look, dweb, you really want to stop playing hide and seek and come out. Right. Now." Jeff shouted again, this time a single gun blast followed it.

Swallowing, Matt shifted around so he could see the clearing with his brother or Jeff. And nearly fell off in fright. Jeff had armed his blaster and was aiming it at the insensible Terry's head. A nearby area close was smoking and black. Matt was just a kid, but even he knew Jeff was serious about shooting Terry.

The gun glow a soft blue as it powered up again.

"DON'T SHOOT!" Matt screamed, "DON'T!"

The blue light faded and Jeff's looked around, a hint of superiority in his face, "Where are you, dreg? Unless you want to be an only kid from now on, I suggest you sit next to your brother."

The younger boy bit his lip; he had to do what the man said. But if he did there was no chance he'd be able to escape again. Terry could die if he didn't get help soon. Yet Terry definitely would if Jeff shot him.

"NOW!"

Peering over the edge of the box, Matt decided he didn't have a choice. Calculating the distance between him and the nearest boxes though, he also decided he didn't have time to awkwardly climb back down either.

Angling it, Matt jumped off the mountain-like stack he was standing on. He landed on a box slightly lower down, making sure to bend his knees like Terry showed him and used the momentum to leap again on to another box. Moving quickly, Matt fell from crate to crate to the ground, his body jarring as his knees gave away and he landed on his stomach. Grimacing, the boy looked up at the slack-jawed kidnapper. Jeff stared at the kid like he had…well fallen about a story down, but hadn't really fell so much as flown from box to box.

"El Diablo!" He gasped, completely freaked out. Watching the man's hand twist the gun about; maybe Matt should have just taken the time to climb down.

Trembling, Jeff gaped at the kid's – no kid could do that! - wide blue eyes as they locked accusingly back to his; a shiver ran down his spine. The kid had the same slaggin' eyes as his brother, cold all-knowing blue bordering on silver. What the hell was this kid? What the fuck was his brother?

Unwittingly the hired killer remembered what had happened to the men in the same room as the elder McGinnis when the Witch Doctor started to play. The screaming, terrified and feral, even now was ringing in his ears unnaturally. Or the look in the teenager's eyes when he attacked Xavier and Mike, the demonic rage had overpowered a broken leg and paralyzing pain. The feverish mutterings and hallucinated cries which were now silent continued to give Jeff the creeps. He had worked with Xavier before, and he had never seen the Doctor give anyone such a high dosage of that nightmare poison of his. Nor anyone fight it like the teenager did. No human could.

"El Diablo…" The boy was a demon, Jeff was sure of it. They were both demons, straight from hell. There was nothing human about the elder McGinnis boy – Jeff didn't know or care why Xavier was interested in him, he thought the boy deserved it but that thing had fascinated the Doctor. And the younger had just tipped his hand too.

The boy slowly got his feet, brushing his dirtied hands on his filth trousers. The younger boy's face scrunched up, fear flickering in his eyes. Jeff knew what he had to do, the only thing left to do. So, before the boy moved, he hit him with the crutch, with enough force to knock the kid off his feet again.

Crying out, Matt felt a something wet run down his head.

Jeff swung his crutch again _and again_ _**and again**_, until he was a still as his brother.

Jeff backed off, warily watching the limp boy on the floor. He looked so normal, beneath the blood and bruising, like a normal bratty boy. Jeff wasn't convinced. Demons were dangerous and conniving; the thing could jump up and kill him as soon as his back was turned. No wonder Xavier was interested in them things. And Wayne of course, a powerful man like him had to have been working with devils for years, many decades. Conjured straight from hell.

Jeff blinked, "Doesn't matter, you're both dead in minutes." The fire would kill them; take them back down to hell and far far away from him. He shook his head, pointedly not looking at the unresponsive elder boy. The elder wasn't dead; he probably just wished he was. Torturing a demon, what next? Jeff was never ever working in Gotham again, fuck the money!

Hands shaking the man entered the last code to start the computer's programming. A timer appeared on the screen and slowly started to tick away. Perfect. Dropping the gun next to the bomb, Jeff rearranged his crutches and, without a look at his ex-kidnappees, made his way out the front of the warehouse. He made sure to seal off the digital key to lock the doors behind him again, just in case. Not that he thought they'd be moving, or that a steel door could stop a monster.

Jeff stepped out into the cold Gotham night; his mind still fixed, half terrified, on the boys inside, he didn't pay any attention to his surroundings. So when a black figure stepped out in from of him, he stared uncomprehendingly at it. At first. "– _oh_ _shit_."

"It's not nice to hit kids; they grow up and hit back," It whispered darkly, a tiny fleck of anger entering it's voice.

Jeff's fingers didn't even touch his hand gun before the blade flashed and his blood was splashed over the door. Gurgling the crook fell down, hands flailing as he tried to stop the blood and still get air into his lungs. It took a few agonizing seconds for the life to fully leave the man's eyes.

The caped figured simply grabbed the man's body and dumped it behind the dumpster with the rest of Gotham's rubbish.

BbBbBbBbBb

Her legs ached slightly as she slammed into the window; her legs braced against ledge and her clawed fingers finding purchase in the silt around it. Definitely, Silverstarr's next investment was going to be a jet pack or booster boots like the Bat's. Maybe _then_ her legs wouldn't be left feeling like they were going to fall off.

As it was, she moved her legs so they were no longer bracing her against the building and perched on the ledge, spare hand reaching for her tools. She had been getting even more practice at braking locks and security measures tonight and she figured, hey if the hero gig didn't work out, she might make a killing as a cat burglar.

Popping the window open; she quietly made her way into the room, making sure to wedge the window open in case she needed a quick escape. Silverstarr dropped onto a nearby box, making sure to keep her ears open for anyone moving around – already she had accidently dropped into a drug trade and was almost blasted to pieces before making a quick exit in the opposite direction. No McGinnis boys there but Batman had had to make a small detour to clear _that_ up with the help of the police, ordering her back on the search. If she hadn't been as worried about the boys as she was, she might have protested that she wasn't completely green.

Of course, now wasn't the time to be fighting with international legends and she got back to work. This warehouse was the next on her list of targets; the police were searching a couple more nearby. Maybe this time it would yield something. Flicking a torch on, Silverstarr lightly jumped from one crate to another, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

There was a small, faint light coming from what looked like a clearing in the middle of the room. She moved towards it carefully, keeping an eye out for anything moving. There wasn't any…

"-oh _fuck_." She gasped, landing at the edge of the clearing and nearly went head over heels into the clearing.

Terry.

Matt.

The two boys were lying in the middle of the clearing, a small crate next to them was clicking away quietly to itself.

Pushing off her feet, Silverstarr flipped down off the boxes. Her feet hitting with a gentle tap and she hurried over to the boys, her torch jerking. Oh, they don't look good at all. She noticed Matt was covered in bruises and was bleeding sluggishly from where he was curled on the floor. Terry was far worse, and Silverstarr almost bit through her lip to stop from screaming. Or crying. He was a complete mess, his skin was so pale it looked completely bloodless and was marred with vicious looking bruises and cuts. Worse even, were the horrible breaks in his leg and arm. She could feel the bile in the back of her throat rise just looking at them; those breaks looked like the sort that meant you might never regain full use again.

But they were alive. Right? Not sure, Silverstarr moved over to Terry almost too scared to touch him for fear that he'd break with a mere tap. There was a pulse, very weak and erratic but there. The relief she was feeling was more than she could say.

She raised a hand to her ear, activating the earpiece Batman had given her, "Batman? I found the boys. They're in a pretty bad shape, an ambulance needs to be here – like now. The building appears deserted," Silverstarr spoke into the earpiece, adding the address of the warehouse, wishing that it wasn't just one way so Batman could tell her what he wanted her to do. Because she had only planned as far as actually finding them, now she was winging it.

As expected there was no response over the piece, thought she imagine Batman and all those working with him were scrambling in her direction. Was that police sirens she was hearing or was she just imagining it?

Straightening, Silverstarr looked around for something she could use to help the boys and her eyes shifted onto the small machine on the crate. Approaching it, she thought it looked like a computer that was attached to a metal case and something-some sort of 6th sense was telling her there was something very wrong with it. Opening it cautiously, she paled at the screen.

2:29…

2:28…

2:27…

2:26

– "OH **SHIT**!" She shouted, staggering back from the armed bomb, "oh crap, oh no no nono no. Batman, there's a bomb!" Silverstarr tried to not lose her composure, not after carefully tailoring and keeping it all night but staring at the literally ticking menace a part of her mind ran screaming into full blown panic.

What the hell was she going to do?! Even just a quick, inexperienced look told Silverstarr this wasn't a simple bomb defused with a quick wire cut, this was something very big and very complicated. The timer very quickly changed and it was like time suddenly sped up, making the timer a blur of movement. How unfair was that?

_'Calm it_,' Starr she thought, trying to force the paralyzing panic down,_'Focus, if you can't defuse it, try getting the hell out of there!'_

Turning around, she took in the boys. This wasn't going to be easy but the increased _tick-tock-tick_ pushed her forwards, scooping the younger McGinnis into her arms and over one shoulder. The boy was kind of heavy, though nothing she couldn't handle – his brother on the other hand? There was no way she could lift the both of them, especially with Terry's smashed up leg. One wrong move and she'll have lost a teenage boy the use of his leg.

Better a leg than a life! Biting down hard, she awkwardly grabbed Terry, forcing the unbroken arm around her neck and trying to put as much strength behind it as possible.

1:15…

1:14…

1:13…

1:12…

She started forwards, slowly dragging the boys. There was no getting anywhere fast, her knees were arching and threatened to give out under the weight. She hadn't gotten a few meters before her shoulders started tremble. Pushing forwards; she could taste blood in her mouth as she bit down too hard. It mingled with the fear in the back of her throat.

One step at a time, she chanted, just one more step, keep going.

Silverstarr could only just feel her arm as when they reached the door, and it throbbed when she settled Matt down to open the door. Locked. "Are you KIDDING me?!" She cried out, sweat dripping down her mask. The door was reinforced steel; there was nothing she was carrying that could cut through it in time.

There had to be another way! Silverstarr screamed mentally, glancing around, that was what her mentor had always told her – there is always way, it's just not _simple_. So there was a way out. of. this. Building! Because….

It hit her. There was a way out, because there was a way in.

_'HOW THE HELL DO I GET THEM UP AND OUT THE WINDOW?'_

Horror was never this hair rising before - if she lived through this, nothing would scare her again. At the moment however she tried to stave off the hysteria in an attempt to stay alive.

Pulling Terry closer, Silverstarr ran through her limited options in a rapidly closing window of time. Batman was right; she was going to end up dead tonight, she just hoped Terry and Matt weren't going to go with her.

BbBbBbBbBbBbBbBb

(_One minute later_)

She didn't even wait for the car to stop moving before the door was flying open and she was moving out of it. As Commissioner, half jumping out a still moving vehicle wasn't the smartest thing to do. As the original Batgirl, she had done a hell of a lot worse and she barely missed a step.

As the once, and possibly still, matriarch of the Batfamily there were more important things on her mind that falling flat on her ass while working. Like her missing boys.

Commissioner Barbara Gordon arrived at the warehouse hiding two members of the family she simply couldn't deny….

…just as the building exploded, throwing her off her feet and onto her back.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

(Same time, Monday evening)

The building exploded.

Fire rained down, bits of debris fell in small and large chucks – _dust_, dust was everywhere, covering the cars, the street, the people. Barbara. The old woman blinked, she was covered in dust and ash, and she could still feel the heat of the fire as it blew outwards. Her ears were ringing.

_No_.

'_No, oh no, oh no nonononononononononononono.'_

It was like a buzz of denial running on repeat in her head.

_'Nonononononononononono.'_

She wasn't panicking. After everything, panic was the one thing she wasn't feeling. Grieving? Terrified? Wracked with guilt and regrets? **Yes**. _Not again_. This was what she was afraid of.

"No," she coughed sitting up painfully, "No."

The warehouse was decimated; the roof had collapsed inwards with the power behind the blast and there were black and red flames licking hungrily at anything remaining. Black smoke washed through the air, making it hard to see or breathe.

No.

Her earpiece was full of static, but still Barbara got the occasional bursts of speech from the others – Maxine was screaming. Steph was crying, Dick was prattling on, almost begging Barbara to tell him the boys were okay and they-they weren't just too late again. Bruce… Bruce was silent. No, this couldn't be happening.

"-Babs? Babs? Are you okay?" Tim's frantic voice broke through the others.

Barbara groaned the ringing fading, "I'm alive." That covered it, because for all the aches and pains running down her back and the pounding in her skull, Barbara felt cold and numb inside. And that wasn't the possible concussion talking.

"Silve- the girl? Is she okay, did she get out?"

She choked on the smoke; it left a disgusting burnt taste in her mouth.

Tim's voice cracked over the link, and this time it wasn't static, "H-her link's dead and nothing responding. The last feeds…the… I-I don't think she made it."He ended on that, like he was suddenly aware the life of a young girl, possible around his own daughter's age, had just been brutally ended alongside his younger 'brothers'.

_They aren't dead__,_ She decided, _they can't be dead._

They simply couldn't be; Barbara didn't know how she could live with herself if they were. Selfish, perhaps but only selfish people lived long in a vigilante world – selfless ones got nice monuments on their grave sites if they were lucky. A poor trade. Very poor _consolation_ for all they gave.

Terry was selfless–he was, she knew. Terry had been maybe one of the most driven, selfless people she had known, he had given so much up for Gotham and never loo- never looke- he never _looked_ for thanks. A tear ran down her cheek. Past tense already? He hadn't even been dead a minute and already she missed him terribly.

'_And where were you when he needed you?'_ A voice in the back of her mind screamed furiously, _'You of all people! Where were you_**_Batgirl_**_?'_

….She wasn't there. She had tried but it just wasn't enough. Her best was never enough for the other batkids, not enough to keep them safe or alive.

It was like her insides had been scooped out and left a shell of the woman who had once been there. Greif could do that, she knew, slow the whole world down to one blurred moment and make everything after something you ghost through, if you're lucky. It was better, in some ways, than being faced so quickly with the unbending, coldness of reality. That was why it evolved, to stop humans from going insane with grief.

"Commissioner! Commissioner!" Unfortunately, either for human evolution or for Barbara's mental health, life didn't always allow for gentle shock to wipe time away. Pushing herself to her feet, she was surrounded by concerned officers. They too were covered in dust and ash; their faces were grim and shocked. Horrified. But already preparing to get to work.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," Any slurring was expertly hidden and she felt if she kept saying it, it might make it true. "A-any casualties?" The words slipped out before she realised she was going to say them. She suppressed a flinch.

"I don't think so, ma'am," one officer reported, Ian Hawk if she remember correctly, new to Major Crimes. The young officer looked quite shaken up, more so than his fellows. He just wasn't as good at hiding it yet.

"I want the fire department here, now. Get those flames under control. Hawk, have Bullock and Sanchez coordinating things here. Get on it. The rest of you, start looking for anyone hurt or injured and make sure they get statements taken and treated. In that order. _Go_." Her officers dispersed, like the well trained soldiers they were. Any of her decorated detectives would have hung back slightly, waiting for the split second Barbara's guard would slip and any injuries were briefly visible.

But none of them were there, and that was good, because Barbara didn't think she could handle being mother hen-ed by anyone half her age. The Police Commissioner made her way over the rubble, trying to get as close to the flames as she could without putting herself or anyone else at risk. The building looked like it could come down at any second. They might never find the bodies if it did.

Resting against the damaged warehouse next door, Barbara thought she might just be having a heart attack. Pain was pulling at her heart, throbbing. That would be such a brilliant way to top the night off. She glanced down at the alley running between the buildings, hoping no one had been down there when the bomb had gone off. Not a nice place to be.

There was too much smoke for Barbara couldn't see clearly but she thought she saw someone on the ground over half way down. They weren't moving. Brilliant, she thought grimly and pushed herself off the cold wall. Everyone was running about, her shaken officers doing their best as reinforcements appeared in the distance. Panicking, scared, confused – someone needed to bring order to it all. Someone always did. But glancing down the alley, Barbara Gordon decided it wasn't going to be her right now and started down. She was a little unsteady on her feet, and the world moved more jerkily around her than she was comfortable with but she was strong, she w- she was – _Strong_. Strong, always strong. Because someone needed to be. For Gotham, for the others.

For the ones who needed it.

The smoke stung her eyes slightly as she ducked under it, the heat almost too much against her skin from one side. Coughing, the old Bat kept moving down the alley, one hand resting on the freakishly cool wall of the neighbouring warehouse.

'_I'm delusional,'_ she thought,_'Or finally gone completely insane, ready for a nice visit at Stephanie's Arkham.'_There was no hope for her to chew on but something lumpy and hard was stuck in her throat. She stumbled to her knees at the collapsed figures. They were lying on a bunch of broken cardboard boxes and ripped black bags than had spilt out of the dumpster covering them.

Terry. Matt. Silverstarr. Her head swam slightly and even as she reached out for the blacked and bleeding figures she was sure her fingers were only going pass through them. Hallucination brought on by stress, lack of rest and a guilt filled grief. Another relapse of the nightmare inducing episodes Scarecrow had cursed her with, a result of one of her nightmares coming true.

_Nothing real._

He was warm and soft when her fingers ran along his hair. She snatched her hand back and reached for her commlink, almost too scared to breathe, "Tim! Tim! They're alive! East of the warehouse, down the side alley, they're alive!"

She was almost giddy with joy, _'Alive, alive, alive. They're alive!_' But she pushed that down too, because, yes they were alive but for how much longer? It was sobering to look at, they all had light burns across their bodies, Silverstarr seemed to have taken the worst of the blast since her suit was completely destroyed, revealing patches of darkened, enflamed skin. Matt's injuries seemed mostly superficial, cuts, bruises so on. Terry was in a far worse state and her stomach rolled with rage at the clearly broken arm and leg. He was breathing, but only just. He needed a hospital, straight away.

The girl was unconscious, not moving and pretty banged up – she had saved Terry and Matt. Barbara couldn't leave her here. If she did, Barbara would be forced to arrest the girl and at the hospital her injuries would reveal her civilian identity. Barbara simply couldn't allow that.

"Dick, Max. Who's closest? Silverstarr is hurt and I need someone to move her to the cave." Barbara ordered down the link.

"I'm here," He was concealed amongst the smoke - no need for the invisibility feature, Batman just suddenly appeared, moving through the smoke like it was a part of him.

How ominous.

"Max, Silverstarr." She gesture to the prone girl amidst the bodies, fingers shaking ever so slightly. The Bat moved closer in two lengthy strides, crouching down besides the broken figures. It wasn't Silverstarr's face the girl traced in concern though. The figure hesitated, the conflict clear to Barbara as if it was her own.

"Max, get Silverstarr out of here so I can get medics for Terry. He needs them now." The masked figure didn't move, and Barbara had to remind herself that, as much as she looked the part, Max wasn't a properly trained Bat. Just a child really. They all were. She was afraid and needed reassurance. But Barbara didn't know if she could give it.

"You've done your job, kid, let me do mine," she said softly.

Batman nodded once, and pulled Silverstarr free of the bodies, the still-masked face lolling on 'his' shoulder as he vanished back into the smoke.

She didn't waste time and switched frequencies, "This is Commissioner Gordon, I've located the McGinnis boys. Down the alley to the east of the warehouse, I need medics here stat."

Her people moved fast; which was good because no sooner than the medics had started to examine the boys, than Gordon's vision started to spin and distort again. This time she couldn't push it away and it swallowed her whole. She collapsed into the worried but trained hands of her people when her body decided enough was indeed, enough. Now, she could rest.

BbBbBbBbBbBb

Any exhaustion had been blown straight out of Max when the warehouse went up in flames.

Fear didn't cover what coursed through her when Silverstarr's semi-hysterical words were loudly cut across. Max didn't know _words_ for what emotions burst free in her chest and raced through her body. At the time, flying as hard as she could towards the warehouse, seeing the explosion, feeling the city shake… She had been knocked straight out of the sky by the grieving terror.

It was like a poison was rushing through her veins, tearing her apart from the inside out. Something howled around her, and it wasn't until Max was gasping for breath that she realised the animalistic scream was coming from her. Tears wet her skin.

_Terry. Matt._

Max blinked, forcing the painful memories out of her head. They weren't dead, no, they weren't – but for that one destroying moment, they _had_ been. Inside her, Max was sure her best friend and brother was dead. The pain was more than she could handle; everything for nothing. But they were alive. Silverstarr had made it, had gotten them too safety.

_Well,_**_almost_**_to safety, _the girl thought darkly, remembering the vicious burns covering the vigilante's body. Her suit was a total loss; there were barely tatters of it left after she used it (and her body) to shield Terry and Matt. The burns running over her body would mostly heal, Bruce had told her after Batman deposited the unconscious girl in the cave. Stephanie and Tim had taken over, since Stephanie had originally trained as a doctor before securing her psychology degree. The elder woman may have said something about the experience of growing up knowing how to stitch people up and its benefit to studying medicine, but Max hadn't been listening. She had changed out of the suit without even noticing and ran out of the cave. She had stopped only long enough to pat Silverstarr on the head, wordlessly thanking the girl for all she had given. She wasn't shocked by Silverstarr's real identity; at this point she didn't think anything could reach her beneath the frantic need to see that Terry was okay.

She arrived at the hospital without even realising she had gotten into her sister's car. She didn't waste time hanging about; Max was running through the building looking for Bruce, Dick or Barbara. It was slightly suspicious; she thought that she knew they had found Terry so soon but she didn't care. After spending days searching for him she wasn't going to let the police stand between them.

Dick, on the other…

"Max," The older man said with relief, grabbing her before she could push through the next set of double doors. Max barely noticed.

"Is he in there? Is he okay? He looked –" Dick cut her across before the distressed girl could say anything incriminating. He covered her mouth just long enough for her to shut up, before removing it – experience told him female Bats were more than willing to bite at stifling hands.

"Terry's going to be okay, he's in surgery," He pulled her to the side; out of the way of the bustling nurses and doctors. **INTENSIVE** **CARE** glowed on the wall behind him and Max's eyes didn't move from it.

Dick sat down; feeling like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders once again and tugged Max down next to him. The teen's eyes were slightly glazed over and bloodshot, and honestly, Max looked like a complete wreck. She had been swaying dangerous on her feet like she was on her last legs and her whole body screamed she was about to burst into tears. Gotham and Batman had pushed the girl to her limit over the last few days, and she was just about ready to fall apart.

The bruising from earlier was also just starting to show up with a vengeance, although the cream soothed its angry colouring slightly. Patting her arms, Dick pretended he didn't notice the looks the nurses and doctors were giving Max (or in particular her beaten face) and the glares aimed at him. As if he'd be stupid enough to beat up a girl and then sit next to her in hospital. Actually, like he'd be stupid enough to provoke a girl into a fight when most of the women he knew could easily rearrange his face in a heartbeat. Though he liked to think they would at least consider his face _before_ hitting him.

"Matt has mostly just bruising and some cuts, he's got a bit of a concussion so they'll keep him overnight but otherwise he's fine. Bruce is with him now, waiting on his mum." Dick carried on in a low voice, "Tim and Steph?"

Max's lip trembled, "Taking care of our friend. She'll be fine according to them, just … surface damage. It'll heal." She slumped in the seat, "I'm glad she was there." _Despite the fact she almost died_. It went unsaid but Dick nodded slowly, understanding.

"It's natural to feel that way."

Max shrugged helplessly, "Doesn't mean I don't feel bad about it. Or angry, I guess, at her. And yet thankful. Does that make sense?" She pulled her legs up onto the small, horribly awkward plastic chair, practically curling up in it. She was so tired, physically, mentally and emotionally but she couldn't rest till she saw Terry. And her head was still whirling in the background from everything that happened, like there was too much to take in and understand even for her.

"Sometimes, it's hard not to feel betrayed by what someone does, even if they end up doing something really selfless. You're also angry at them, for making what you feel, so hard to feel. But that doesn't mean you don't – or shouldn't – feel it." He stretched, feeling his muscles pop and pull – he didn't know how Max hadn't crashed, when he was all but asleep just waiting. Maybe he was too used to waiting for news that it wasn't as jarring to him. But he could understand her feelings towards Silverstarr.

"All you've got to decide, kiddo, is: do you want your anger at the mistake she's made pick what you do or what she did to fix that mistake?" Years of experience came through, as he gave Max a knowing look. "Can't change what you feel but you can change what you do with it and how you treat people because of it."

Max nodded shakily, thinking about it. Then she pushed it away because she only just had the brain power to breathe never mind consider complex emotions and actions.

"Excuse me Miss, are you okay?"

Max looked up at the middle aged nurse in front of her, who had a very serious face and very compassionate eyes. She blinked a couple of times trying to figure out what the woman had asked and what her reply should be. She couldn't even think anymore.

"I'm tired, worried, scared." She whispered, "But I'll be fine, as soon as I know Terry's going to be okay." What else mattered at this point?

The nurse started, "Actually, I meant your face. Those bruises look nasty."

Max half raised a hand to her face before she remember the marks from her fight earlier, she had completely forgotten about them and if it wasn't for her frantic need to get to the hospital then she would have at least covered them up. Whoops. But with the reminder, it was like the rest of her body slammed back into Max's sphere of awareness – her arms throbbed beneath the long sleeved top, her sore hip and leg weren't being helped with her sitting on them and the bruising was tender.

"Oh." Was all the girl said.

"She got in to a fight earlier," Dick offered with a small, proud grin, "Guess who won? You should see the other guys."

The excuse wasn't the greatest but seeing that Max didn't appear to be bothered by the bruises like she was ashamed of them nor did she look particularly bothered by Dick's presence (if anything the girl _blushed_, pleased at his grin), the nurse dropped it and moved on.

"Would you like me to check up on your friend? It's the McGinnis boy, isn't it?"

The two nodded. After the nurse had disappeared into **INTENSIVE** **CARE** (Max was weirdly jealous of the woman for that) Max dropped her head onto her knees. "I can't believe I forgot make-up," she bemoaned, embarrassed.

Dick gave a short laugh, more a small leak of relief than actual humour, "Max, I'm surprised you managed to get dressed properly – I remember once Tim walked into Leslie's surgery with half his… uniform still on. The looks he got before he realised he still had his skin-tight leggings on were hilarious." He closed his eyes remembering, "Oh, and Cass got herself locked in a museum once and of course, she couldn't walk out in bright day light, so she took her mask and top off, wrapped it around her waist and ran out with just a sport bra on. At least she looked like a civilian." Dick sniggered; remembering how mortified the infamous Cassandra Cain had been when Stephanie had laughingly told them the story. Cassandra had taken her revenge by staring mercilessly at Steph for the rest of the week, till the beaten girl apologised.

A giggle escaped Max without her realising she had the energy to laugh, "I bet that was embarrassing." At least Max had remembered a top.

Noticing Dick continued, "Oh and then there were the times we ended up cross-dressing. Once, Tim got hit on bad by this guy he and Steph went to school with. Guy kept on talking about 'Tina' for weeks afterwards…" More giggles escaped Maxine's mouth, catching her throat, "And of course, there was this guy who wouldn't stop flirting with Cass… till he realised she was a girl. He was gay, apparently. Cass was _nooooot_ impressed at that." To be fair, Cass didn't dress like most girls, just joggers, sports tops and loose gym clothes and had cut her hair really short at the time. The guy had caught on pretty quickly after Cass had taken her jacket off.

"Cross-dressing? Really?" She asked amazed.

Dick twitched, "Bruce scarred my childhood the first time he made me wear a dress. Needed to, of course, wouldn't have ended up saving Barbara if he hadn't," The faded smile flickered when he remember what exactly he had saved Barbara and the rest of those girls from – that was something he'd never wish on anyone and he never forgot what Mad Hatter had almost done. Travis hadn't known what the buyer had wanted 'Alice' for but that wasn't the point. He hadn't cared either.

Max sighed, her head slipping till it was almost rest on Dick's shoulder. Her eyes fluttered slightly, feeling very heavy.

"Miss?" Her eyes opened wide and she nodded in acknowledgment.

The nurse had returned, her face was sympathetic as she regarded the two of them this time and that made Max nervous. "He's in a very bad shape but he appears to be doing well, all things considered. It's a good thing Batman dropped off an antidote to whatever they used to poison him, it was just in time." Max glanced at Dick in a 'Batman what?' look, Dick shrugged and motioned that it was the original who had sorted that out. How, he didn't know.

"I would suggest you two go home and get some rest, McGinnis isn't going to wake up or be ready for visitors for a while." The nurse winked, then added, "But anyway, coffee machine's that way." Nodding down the other side of the corridor, she smiled and left.

"Antidote?" Max asked, her head resting on Dick's shoulder absently.

"Tim. For Xavier's serum in case he drugged Terry or Matt. Better safe than sorry." Dick placed his own head slightly on Max's, his eyes drifting closed.

She shivered, remembering what she had read about Xavier's serum – what it had done to the children he had experimented on. "He used… that on Terry?"

"Yes, we won't know how much of an effect it has had on him till he wakes up." He could still remember seeing Tim for the first time after the incident with the Joker, how he could barely recognize Tim and it wasn't the white face and green hair, but the madness in his eyes that were so changed. Tim hadn't been the same boy and never was again, even when he regained his sanity and his short, disobedient spell as Red Robin, Tim hadn't been the same – serious, cold, obsessive and so very broken. It was like Steph and Cass were the only ones who could bring him back, even if only as a ghost of what he had been.

He missed his little brother so much, but Terry had been a big part of bringing Tim back to more of what he had been before it all.

"Terry will be fine," He reassured her, "he's strong."

"How would you know, you've never met him," Max snapped slightly, tears blurring her eyes. "The serum attacks the mind, causing constant hallucinations and delusions. Those kids went insane out of fear, they lost the ability to tell truth from fantasy, w-what –what if–" It was too much, that she had come this far to lose Terry all over again to his own mind. "The things Terry's seen, what we both have–"

_What if it's too much to handle?_ She couldn't ask.

_"…The burden you bare is a heavy and dark one. Mister McGinnis has seen things you would not believe. His nightmares are…potent."_ Xavier had whispered, hadn't he? And she had known what he was saying was true, even just remembering what they had been through together… _"Don't you ever wish you could whisper all those dark, fearful thoughts out loud, to let them go and never be troubled by them again?"_

For those he tortured, Xavier made those nightmares, every fleeting possibility of fear come to life and bred more. He locked his victims up in their own minds, unable to ever escape their own terror with their imagination fuelling the constant cycle. She didn't want that for Terry, that wasn't what he deserved.

The sob locked in her chest made her shake uncontrollably and she buried her head in Dick's shoulders, not wanting him to see her cry. Dick moved, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. He muttered useless reassurances as she finally broke down.

BbBbBbBbBb

Every light in the house was off.

With only one occupant who didn't care much for the light, turning them on seemed pointless. The built-in blinds were open and Gotham sprawled out from it, the night sky burning. The whole city might as well have been on fire, the way the black smoke intermingled with the bloody red sky.

But Mary McGinnis simply sat and watched the night. She couldn't even bring herself to hate the city, hate Gotham for being what it was or hate herself for not leaving sooner. Gotham had taken her ex-husband, a man she at least partly still loved and now Gotham was trying to steal her sons too.

For many years, Mary had been afraid Gotham had stolen Terry from her. But after juvie, Terry had come back, literally as well as figuratively. Yes he had lived with his father and yes, Mary still found it hard to deal with Terry but that was because Terry was just so stubborn, strong willed and **_a_** **_teenager_** and there was this need inside him that nothing Mary did could sooth. It was like her son was lost and didn't know what he was looking for. He hadn't found it in crime, if anything he found the opposite.

Mary was glad of that, even if a part of her was still (and maybe always would be) afraid he'd get drawn back into all that. Not because Terry was bad, or greedy or cruel. It was simply because Mary was terrified she was going to lose her son again, and this time, he wouldn't come back.

Then Bruce Wayne had found him. Or perhaps, her son had found something in Bruce Wayne that she couldn't give him.

It was more than a job, she understood that. She recognized the way Terry spoke about Mr. Wayne and she was deeply relieved by it – the last time Terry had spoken about someone with admiration and respect, it had be Charlie Bigelow and look where that had gotten him. This time, Terry had found someone who understood him in someone Mary trusted and respected herself. Wayne was a good stand in father figure, though she suspected the man hadn't intended to be. Was Wayne a demanding, hard task manager? Yes, that was obvious. Had Wayne made her son into a better man?

Wayne had let the potential for good in her son find a release that it desperately needed. For all the long hours and missed family moments, Terry was doing better in school – less fighting and more cooperation with his fellow students from what she heard–he was easier to live with and got on so well with Matt. And he was excelling with Wayne.

Mary wasn't any kind of fool – she had looked into Bruce Wayne right after he had left her home with his job offer. Not because Mary was naive enough to believe that if she asked Terry to quit he would but because Mary wanted to know what she was facing. You fight battles based on what they are, not on what you want them to be, she had once read and that was how Mary made her life. At school and in work, she had looked at what she was doing before considering how to change that to her advantage and how to succeed with what was given to her. She had succeeded greatly with that.

With Wayne, Mary had to look close to see what was truly there. First off, she knew a charmer when she saw one and while Bruce Wayne might make her blush with his sweet, old gentlemanly attitude, she saw the steel and daring underneath it all. That she respected. One didn't work in business without daring after all, hence why she didn't.

Then she looked at how the world saw him. Oh, and did Gotham look at Bruce Wayne. Playboy and philanthropist, trust fund brat and businessman, loner and family man. Contrasts so deep she wondered which were true and which were not.

Was Wayne heartless? Certainly not, she came to realise – a heartless man didn't do what Wayne did, both for Gotham, for the members of his adopted family or almost complete strangers. Did a man become cold after losing several children?

Mary prayed she never had cause to understand what he had went through, but if it was a fraction of the pain inside her with her sons missing then she could forgive Wayne a mask to hide behind. She trusted Wayne, and more importantly, she trusted him to look out for her son and guide him in a way she never could.

But she had never considered the fact that working with Bruce Wayne might come with a risk all of its own. That despite knowing that Wayne' second son had attacked and apparently killed when he was young and that his other children were often kidnapped and held to ransom, she had never thought anyone would notice her son next to him. Apparently someone had, and also noticed the fatherly affection Wayne had for her son. Then they had taken them, to get to Wayne.

And Mary was left sitting in the dark, not sure what she could do to bring her sons home to her.

_Beep, Beep-Beep, Beep._

She started when the phone started to ring and knew before she had picked it up who was calling.

"Mr. Wayne? Any news?" She wasn't crying, she had cried herself out a long time ago but her voice was so emotionless she didn't sound real.

"Mrs. McGinnis," Bruce Wayne's deep, rich voice replied, "The police have both Terry and Matthew, they're at Gotham General at the moment."

"A-are they okay?" That scared her; if Gotham had given her sons back, what kind of condition would they be in?

"Matthew is fine, just some bumps and bruising. Nothing broken, I've been with him so he's not been alone. He's a bit shook up though. Terry… his condition is a lot more serious, he's in surgery at the moment. The police have sent a car to pick you up. It should be there soon." Wayne reported the facts simply, trying to bring her up to speed without overwhelming her with details. Details that would be hard to hear. She was thankful for that; she wasn't in any kind of state for details beyond her sons were alive and mostly whole.

"Thank you, Mr. Wayne. You've been a godsend through all of this," As close to breaking down as Mary was, her voice was calm and steady if a bit monotone.

There was an awkward pause, like Mr. Wayne didn't know what to say to that. Mary could almost have sympathised with him, he was old and this couldn't have been good on him – from what Max had told her in a spare second, he had already almost had a heart attack. But he was determined to see her sons safely home.

"Please _don't_ thank me, Ms. McGinnis. This is all my fault. I'm the reason Terry and Matthew were kidnapped… I'd understand if you hated me." His voice wavered ever so slightly, and it was clear Bruce Wayne blamed himself entirely for what was happening. And he was right, Mary could hate him for this, hold him entirely to blame for it all.

"I don't blame you. You couldn't have known what Chang was going to do and you've tried so hard to help Terry, before and now, how could I doubt you have his welfare at heart?" How could she? If Wayne hadn't done what he'd done, would the whole of Gotham police force be tearing the city in two looking for her sons? No, Wayne had gone beyond what any other man might have and even if some twisted man had gone after her sons because of Wayne, that didn't make it Wayne's fault.

"You may change your mind after seeing Terry," a dark, grumble over took Wayne's voice and for a moment, she wondered if it was self-loathing she heard.

"You helped find my son, Mr. Wayne. You're not responsible for the madness of other people. Take responsibility for your own actions alone." She said, the distance of her own feelings making things so much easier to deal with. She was an independent woman, but being independent also meant knowing when you needed others. And Mary had come to realise in the last three days, just how much her family had come to rely on Bruce Wayne. And pondered how unfair that was on a hurt, elderly man who owed them nothing.

Wayne sighed, and for the first time showed signs of how heavily everything was weighing on him, "If only things were ever that simple."

"Things are only what we make of them. My sons are alive, I'm clinging to _that_."


End file.
